


Won't End Well

by fbismoak (midwestwind)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Christmas, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, New Year's Eve, Romance, holiday au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/fbismoak
Summary: The engagement is, admittedly, a poorly thought out last ditch effort to save both of their companies from completely flatlining. But, in her defense, it was Oliver’s poorly thought out last ditch effort and Felicity just ended up along for the ride. His mother insisting he bring his new, mysterious fiancée home for the holidays was an unforeseen event she had not prepared for. Now, she’s stuck in the mountains with the Queen family and their friends and little to no cell phone reception.Needless to say, this won’t end well.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Issa a holiday fake engagement AU y'all!!! *air horns*
> 
> Anyway, this is incredibly loosely based on the movie The Proposal but I mean /loosely/. I'm hoping to finish it up in four parts, posted leading up to Christmas, but if it runs until New Year's then... eh. Happy Holidays, y'all!
> 
> Also, Strangers is gonna be on hiatus probably until after the holidays because I have committed myself to /a lot/ but it's not gonna get abandoned, if you're worried. I'm really excited about the stuff I have coming up and I hope y'all enjoy the intro to this story!!
> 
> (Also, I did that thing where I needed visuals as I wrote so I planned out Felicity and Thea's outfits for this chapter, so, if you're a visual person, too: [click here!](https://twitter.com/fellicityqueen/status/935226036660441091))

Felicity hates Slade Wilson. She knows she should be listening to what he’s saying, but that’s all that’s running through her mind. She hates his smug voice and his dumb beard and his stupid greased up hair. If it were up to her, she’d punch him in his prideful little face.

 

But, it’s not up to her. Not only because, if he wanted to, Slade Wilson could probably bench press her out the nice glass windows behind her desk. Also because, despite her repeated insistence that it’s completely unnecessary, the board has appointed him her designated babysitter.

 

They wouldn’t use that term, sure, but what else should one call a man with a superiority complex assigned to pop in periodically and make sure she’s doing her job? She knows how to do her job, thank you very much. She’s been doing it since the idea of even having a board was just a pipe dream.

 

“Ms. Smoak, it would be nice if you were actually able to pay attention to me when I’m admonishing you,” he says in that stupid fucking accent. Australia. What a dumb country to be from.

 

Well, in fairness, it’s not the entirety of Australia that she’s upset with, but who else should she blame?

 

“It’d be nice if you added some variance to your admonishment every once in a while,” she bites back, earning herself a dark look from him.

 

“Keep testing me,” he growls, leaning forward and pointing his index finger at her. She’s suddenly glad for the desk separating them or she may find the heel of her pump poking through the sole of his foot. He continues, “I’ll be glad the day your board hands your company over to me on a silver platter.”

 

She glares at him, refusing to give an inch. The intercom on her desk buzzes, her assistants voice coming through after it stops.

 

“Felicity,” she says hesitantly, probably able to see the staredown happening through the glass walls. “Your four-thirty is here.”

 

Felicity doesn’t have any other meetings scheduled for the day, but she’s grateful for the ingenuity of the young woman keeping her schedule. She puts on her best poker face as she leans to peer around Slade’s large form.

 

At the sight of the person leaning over her assistant’s desk, doing his best impression of a charming human being, she sighs and looks back to Slade.

 

“You’ve run over your allotted time for yelling at me for today,” she tells him. “Perhaps we can pick this up the next time you decide to grace this continent with your presence.”

 

Slade straightens up, smoothing out his suit jacket and puffing up his chest in the way men do to remind you that they’re large and somehow superior for it. She blinks at him, unimpressed by the show.

 

“I’m not sure why I bother here,” he says finally. “You and your bleeding heart have built this sinking ship, you may as well go down with it.”

 

He turns and heads out of her office, the soft-close door lessening the impact of his exit. She glares at him until he disappears out of sight, aware of the eyes on her, before finally pressing the button on her intercom.

 

“Send him in,” she says wearily. Naturally, he doesn’t wait for another word from her assistant, instead coming through the doors before she’s even finished speaking.

 

“That seemed like fun,” he comments, hooking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction Slade had disappeared. Felicity sighs, wishing she could sit but refusing to spend their entire conversation looking up at him.

 

“Mr. Queen,” she offers as greeting, choosing instead to focus on tidying up the paperwork littering her desk. “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”

 

“That’s no way to talk to the person who’s going to save your company,” he says.

 

“From what I understand, you can’t even save your own company,” she reminds him, too tired to care how rude that sounds. He’s the one who’d shown up without an appointment trying to act like a gift from God. She looks up, tilting her head at him, “How exactly do you plan to save mine?”

 

“We need to get engaged,” he says, cutting right to it. She frowns at him, sure something in her brain has finally fried.

 

“How romantic,” she comments before she can stop herself. She shakes her head. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

 

“It’s not a joke,” he insists and she frowns at him for a moment, realizing he’s actually being serious right now.

 

“And how, exactly,” she starts, staring incredulously at him, “does our engagement save our companies?”

 

“Through a merger,” he says, like it should be obvious. Like she’s the one who’s being difficult here.

 

Felicity blinks at him.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “I think I may have just suffered a minor stroke because somehow ‘engagement’ is not the craziest thing you’ve said today.”

 

Oliver huffs.

 

“I’m being serious,” he bites, glaring at her a little. She wonders if he remembers he’s supposed to be convincing her of this insane idea.

 

“Yeah, that’s what worries me,” she tells him. “What even brought this completely inane idea on?”

 

He unbuttons the button on his suit jacket and shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks, looking like he’s working to find the right words before he speaks again. It’s a good idea, since nothing he’s said since he entered her office makes any sense, but also how they both spend half their times. Trying to find the right words to convince people who are already betting against you.

 

“As you mentioned, Queen Consolidated is in a precarious position,” he begins after a moment. “The board is eager to jump to the most lucrative option, which they believe is selling out to Stellmoor International.”

 

“I have access to the internet,” she reminds him. “I know all of this.”

 

He huffs again and she can tell she’s not the only one whose patience is shot.

 

“They invited Isabel Rochev in for a meeting today, despite my protests, and she asked what plans I had to save the company,” he continues. “I told her I had a merger in the works. With Helix Dynamics.”

 

“And she laughed in your face?” Felicity guesses and Oliver’s jaw works in annoyance.

 

“She was quick to remind me that the CEO is notorious for refusing to merge with anyone whose business model and ideals differ from her own,” he explains and Felicity nods in agreement, “And how could I possibly have made that work? So, the engagement thing just sort of slipped out.”

 

“Okay, ignoring the fact that you’ve clearly conflated a company merger with an actual marriage,” she begins and Oliver opens his mouth like he intends to argue, but she holds her hand up, “How exactly would this even work?”

 

“Don’t act like you’ve never been part of a PR stunt before,” he says.

 

“Showing up at a meticulously chosen client’s hospital room for a photo op is hardly the same thing as a literal marriage,” she reminds him.

 

“We wouldn’t actually get married,” he sighs. “We’d play the engagement thing while we worked on paperwork for the merger in quiet. Then, once everything is all set, we end the engagement amicably and merge the companies.”

 

“And, why would I agree to this?” She asks.

 

“Because judging by the intense meeting I just interrupted, you’re low on options,” he says, pulling his hands from his pocket and stepping towards her desk.

 

He holds his hand out, palm open to the ceiling. The ring sits neatly in his hand, diamonds easily catching the light from the fluorescents above and directing them back.

 

“Oh my God,” she squeaks, the sight of the ring suddenly making her chest tight. “Why do you even  _ have _ that?”

 

“It was my mother’s,” he explains shortly, stepping closer to the desk as if it’s the space between them keeping her from taking it from him.

 

“That is so much worse,” she groans, spinning away from him and running her hand over her ponytail. She can feel a headache coming on.

 

“Felicity,” he says and the use of her first name catches her off guard. “Are you in?”

 

She stares out over the city she’s made her home from the company she’s made her entire life. It’s overcast, painting the city in a gray haze, and it’ll begin to snow soon. The whole city will shift once it does, coloring itself in holiday lights.

 

After a moment, she turns back to him.

 

“I’m in.”

 

\---

 

“This is a bad idea.”

 

“I’m aware of that, Curtis, thank you,” Felicity sighs, throwing a dark look in the direction of her head of engineering. He crosses his arms over his chest, unfazed by her surly attitude.

 

“Who’s response to being challenged is to fake an engagement?” Alena, Helix’s head of programming, asks as she paces back and forth behind Curtis.

 

“Oliver Queen’s apparently,” Felicity says, placing her head in her heads. There’s a headache forming in her left temple. “Look, I know it’s crazy and convoluted but, I don’t know, guys. We’re running out of options here.”

 

“How’d the meeting with Wilson go?” Curtis asks and the headache moves to pulse behind her left eye.

 

“Poorly,” she offers shortly before looking back up to stare imploringly at them both. “I won’t let this company go and if this is the best option we have to save it right now, then it’s what we have to do.”

 

She’d waited to tell them until she and Oliver had figured out the logistics. Nothing about the fake engagement is to leave the office, though, and she knows Curtis and Alena understand how bad it could be for everyone involved if this kind of corporate plotting got out. Felicity and Oliver aren't trying to do anything sleazy, though. They’re just trying to save their companies.

 

“We have a new problem,” a new voice says and Felicity startles, looking up to see Oliver coming through her office doors like he owns the place. Her assistant trails after him, shooting apologetic looks to the room at large.

 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Smoak,” she chirps, looking towards Oliver with frustration. “I told him you were in a meeting but he insisted-“

 

“Well, I am her fiancé,” Oliver says easily, spinning around to pin the poor girl with a blinding smile. It’s probably a good thing because it stops her from noticing the way Felicity flinches at the words.

 

“I…” is all her assistant manages to get out, looking stricken by this information.

 

“Everyone needs an appointment,” Felicity informs him pointedly. She tacks on a biting, “Honey.”

 

Oliver smirks at the pet name, looking amused at having frustrated her. Electing to ignore him for the moment, she dismisses her assistant, waiting until the door has closed behind her.

 

“You can’t keep showing up here and bullying my assistant,” she tells him and Oliver frowns at her.

 

“I don’t bully,” he argues. “I charm.”

 

Felicity blinks at him.

 

“Besides, you’ll want to hear what I have to tell you from me, rather than being blindsided by it,” he explains. She waits, but he glances warily at Curtis and Alena who are watching the exchange with interest.

 

“This is Alena and Curtis,” Felicity says, motioning towards them. “They’re my department heads and I’ve explained the situation.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Oliver offers with a charming smile, stepping over to shake each of their hands. “I’m Oliver Queen.”

 

“We know who you are,” Alena says, grinning a little too much as she squeezes his hand.

 

“We’ve actually met before,” Curtis tells him. “At a benefit about a year ago. Curtis Holt.”

 

Oliver stares blankly at him for a moment and Curtis waits. Felicity decides to put them both out of their miseries.

 

“Guys, could you give us the room?” She asks. Curtis and Alena, in all their combined awkward glory, nod and exclaim assurances before leaving the office. Oliver watches them go with a look of bemusement before turning back to her. She presses, “So, what was so important?”

 

“Someone leaked our engagement to the press,” he says, no longer toeing around the subject. Felicity frowns, rounding her desk to reach her computer. She types in her own name to the search engine and groans at the first few news pieces that come up.

 

“And by someone you mean…”

 

“Isabel, yeah,” he nods, knowing where she’s going. “I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

 

“She’s trying to call our bluff,” Felicity sighs, reaching up to run a hand over her ponytail. Oliver nods in agreement. “Then we’ll just have to up our poker faces. We’ll go out dinner a couple times a week, make sure we can be spotted together every once in a while. Just until the lawyers get everything worked out.”

 

“That’s not the end of my bad news,” he tells her and the tension headache has now spread for full coverage. She squeezes her eyes shut as she waits for him to continue. “My mother heard about the news and is now expecting me to bring my fiancée home for Christmas.”

 

“I’m Jewish,” she says, more out of instinct than anything else. It settles in what he’s telling her, though, and her stomach rolls anxiously. “No. No way. I am not going to spend the holidays with your family while we pretend to be engaged.”

 

“It’ll just help sell it for Isabel,” he comments, but Felicity is already shaking her head.

 

“Can’t you just explain the situation to your family?” She asks. “I’m sure they’d understand.”

 

“Felicity, I cannot tell my mother that I am so close to losing our company, my father’s legacy, to Stellmoor that the only way I could think to save it was a hail mary of a merger and a fake engagement to stall until it goes through,” he argues and, yeah, when he puts it like that it makes him sound like an incompetent CEO. Then again, she’d agreed to go along with this, so if that’s his boat, she’s probably sinking in it right along with him.

 

Carefully, he takes a few steps towards her, testing the waters. When she doesn’t do anything more than watch him warily, he rounds the desk to stand in front of her.

 

“Look,” he starts gently. “It’s a week in the mountains. All we have to do is announce our leaves and Isabel will move on. The legal teams can work out the merger and it should be ready by the time we get back.”

 

“Right,” she nods, though it definitely still sounds like an insane idea to her. “And once the merger is completed, we quietly and amicably break up.”

 

“Exactly,” he nods. “I’m sure we can get through one week with my family without incident.”

 

Apparently, in more ways than one, Felicity does not share his faith.

 

\---

 

The thing about the Queens is that you really can’t live in Starling City for any extended amount of time without knowing who they are. Felicity moved to the city after college, working low wage coding jobs that were really beneath her skillset. It took years to get Helix Dynamics off the ground and turned into a successful, well known biomedical engineering and programming company. Helix is doing things that science fiction dreams were made of only a decade ago.

 

Oliver Queen didn’t build his company from the ground up the way she had, but she doesn’t begrudge him that. He’s had his path chosen for him since the day he was born. The eldest son of Robert Queen and destined to take over the company. A modern day royal in training.

 

Of course, he’d spent his youth totally wasting away his potential, as bored rich kids with little to no boundaries are wont to do. Felicity remembers seeing him in the tabloids or on the news after she’d moved to Starling. Partying with this person or starting a fight with that paparazzi. She’d never really given him more than a passing thought of ‘how unfortunate.’

 

And then Robert Queen publicly announced his illness. Nothing changed for a while, not in noticeable ways to anyone not involved in the man’s life or company. There were some leadership changes. Felicity remembers the press conference where Walter Steele announced he would be stepping into the CEO position. It wasn’t until Robert Queen died a year and a half later that Oliver decided it was time for a change.

 

He disappeared for a little over five years, totally unheard from in the news or anywhere else for that matter. She’s sure he kept up with family and friends, but publicly? He had just vanished into thin air. One day he was picking drunken fights with bouncers outside of clubs, the next he was gone.

 

When he’d come back to Starling, he’d stepped quietly into the position of CEO within Queen Consolidated and has been doing it ever since. He uses his charms to his advantage, but he’s more than just a pretty face. From what she can tell, it’s a miracle Queen Consolidated is still operating and it’s really only thanks to Oliver. The company was floundering even before he’d taken over and he’s been managing to delay a complete overhaul.

 

Delay the inevitable, more like. Something Felicity is beginning to worry she’s been doing as well. Sustaining business interests in Starling has been difficult and if it can’t support a legacy company like Queen Consolidated, then what hope does Helix Dynamics have?

 

Needless to say, as much as she hates it, this merger is a good idea for both of them. More than that, it’s a necessity in order to even have a chance of keeping both companies afloat. As if pretending to be Oliver’s fiancée in front of his entire family wasn’t making her anxious enough.

 

And when she’s anxious she tends to overthink things. Like what she should pack in her suitcase. Which is how she ends up with her large suitcase filled to the point that she has to practically lay down on it to zip it closed. Plus, a canvas duffle bag with some extra shoes and things. Just in case.

 

Her doorbell chimes and she stares around her loft, nervous she’s forgetting something terribly important. She knows her phone and tablet chargers are in her purse, along with the tablet itself and an emergency bottle of Xanax. She pulls the door open and startles when it isn’t Oliver standing on the other side.

 

“Oh,” she says, looking up at the unfamiliar man. He gives her a friendly smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and she feels compelled to return it. “Hi.’

 

“I’m John Diggle,” he offers, introducing himself rather than responding to her greeting. “I’m head of security for Mr. Queen and he asked me to come pick you up.”

 

Felicity frowns at that. The plan had been for Oliver to pick her up and they would drive to his mother’s house in the mountains together. She plans to use the time to get their stories straight before they have to tell any to his relatives.

 

“Then where is he?” She asks.

 

“He got held up at the office,” John explains, nodding into the loft. “I can help you with your bags.”

 

Felicity shakes herself, remembering why he’s there in the first place, and waves him within. She had been expecting Oliver, but maybe it’s better she has a little more time to herself before committing herself to being trapped in a car with him for the five hours it will take to get to his mother’s house in the mountains.

 

John grabs her large suitcase, lifting it easily, and she loops her arm through the straps on the canvas duffle. Her purse is sitting on the kitchen table, waiting to be grabbed along with her light colored peacoat and deep purple scarf. She’d considered going with comfort over style for the drive, but had then thought about meeting Moira Queen in leggings and an old sweatshirt. 

 

Needless to say she’d decided she could deal with a five hour car ride in a pencil skirt.

 

“Is this everything?” John asks as she wraps the scarf around her neck. Felicity glances anxiously around the open space of the loft again, anxiety eating away at her. She knows she has everything. She’s actually an excellent packer. It’s just that her nerves won’t let her believe it.

 

“Yup,” she says finally. “This is it.”

 

\---

 

She and John wait in the car parked outside Queen Consolidated until Oliver comes down. They chat easily and Felicity is delighted to find that John Diggle makes for an excellent conversational partner. She thinks he senses her nerves, so he’s willing to let her chatter on without resistance if it’ll make her feel better. At one point, he informs her that most people call him Dig and she can as well.

 

“Well, if I call you Dig, you’ll definitely have to stop calling me Ms. Smoak,” she points out, because he’s referred to her formally a few times.

 

“Oh, would you prefer Mrs. Queen?” He asks and the question makes her jolt, looking up at him in surprise. He’s smirking at her in the rearview mirror, eyes crinkling with mirth, and she realizes that he’s messing with her. So, clearly, Oliver trusts him well enough that he knows about their little charade.

 

The teasing reminds her of something, though, and she reaches for her purse next to her feet. Digging within, her stomach drops at the thought she may have left it at the loft. Her finger slides across something pointy and sharp before hitting cool, smooth metal. Good, so she didn’t forget it.

 

“Felicity is just fine, thanks,” she says quietly, in response to John’s teasing, as she pulls the ring from within her bag. She studies it in her palm, discontent tightening her stomach.

 

Oliver had given it to her a week ago when this whole farce had started, but she’s only put it on once or twice to keep the lie alive. Now, she’s going to have to walk around with it on her finger for the next week in front of the people who know him best. God, this is such a stupid idea.

 

The car door across from her opens and she closes her hand into a fist around the ring, stuffing it into her bag to discreetly put the piece of jewelry on. Oliver ducks as he slides into the car next to her, letting out a heavy sigh and unbuttoning the closure on his suit jacket. At least she’s not the only one who’s overdressed for a car ride.

 

“Hi, honey, how was work?” She asks sarcastically, or tries to anyway. Her nerves are still getting the better of her and it comes out softer than she means. It makes Oliver look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She rolls her eyes and diverts her gaze out the window.

 

They drive in silence for a while and Felicity thinks it’s actually worse that they have John to drive for them. At least, if one of them were driving that would be something to do. Instead, they’re sitting two feet from each other in complete silence.

 

When it becomes too much for her and her phone isn’t offering enough of a distraction, Felicity shifts in the seat so she’s angled towards him rather than the car door. Oliver notices the shift, looking over at her but not adjusting his own body language.

 

“We should get our stories straight now,” she says, reaching for her purse again, “before we get caught telling different stories of how we met or something.”

 

“We met two years ago at the mayor’s re-election party,” he says, surprising her. “I figure the truth is fine for that one.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I just,” she starts, trailing off because she doesn’t know if she really wants to say it. She really hadn’t expected him to remember meeting her at that party. She’d only been there because her board insisted she stay in good standing with the mayor and her introduction to Oliver had been brief. She’d fumbled through some inane drivel about…

 

“You were talking about the council’s initiative to clean up the bay and hawking the mayor about getting on board with it,” he presses on, shifting now so that he’s facing her. “You were very impassioned.”

 

“I had probably had too much wine,” she excuses, cringing and reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

 

“In your defense, it was a very good red,” he comments.

 

“Right,” Felicity breathes, looking back over at him. She figures her cheeks must be turning the color of that wine from two years ago, so she diverts. Her purse is still in her lap and she reaches within for what she’d intended to grab. She holds up a stack of brightly colored cardstock. “I made flash cards.”

 

Oliver blinks at her and then just shakes his head as he says, “Of course you did.”

 

“I’m an over planner, don’t judge,” she instructs, pointing accusingly at him. “This is your plan, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to watch it all fall apart just because you don’t know my food allergies.”

 

“You’re allergic to nuts,” Oliver says easily, waving away her concerns as if this whole thing can’t fall apart if someone were to tug at a single loose thread. She frowns at the knowledge, startled by how quickly he’d answered.

 

“What?” She asks. “How do you know that?”

 

“You told me,” he says, frowning at her like she’s grown a second head. “At the benefit for the fire department last year. You asked if I knew what was in the brownies because you’re allergic to nuts.”

 

“Oh,” she says quietly, staring down at the vibrant note cards in her hands. Now that he’s mentioned it, she remembers the conversation. 

 

He’d caught her staring a little too hard at the trays of desserts and had made some joking comment about how the fire department wouldn’t put pot in brownies meant for the public. When she’d told him she was allergic to nuts and afraid to risk it, he’d picked up one of the brownies and taken a cursory bite before assuring her they were walnut free.

 

“Okay,” she chirps, hoping he can’t see the way his memory of her has affected her. She holds up one of the bright pink notecards with her hand writing scribbled across it. “Well, what’s my favorite color?”

 

Oliver gives her this soft, amused smile and shakes his head in defeat.

 

“Purple,” she tells him and he nods. “What’s yours?”

 

“Honestly, Felicity, no one is going to be giving us the third degree on what we know about each other,” he argues.

 

“Oliver, these are things people in relationships know about each other,” she insists. “So, no, your mom probably isn’t going to come out and ask us this stuff, but conversations could end up involving them. It’s important that we prep.”

 

“Prep,” he echoes in a grumbling tone and she levels him with a look. He gives, “My favorite color is blue.”

 

“Was that so hard?” She asks, smirking to herself as she flips the card to the back of pile and moves onto the next.

 

\---

 

“Wait, why are we getting off the highway?” She asks a little over two hours into the drive, looking over at Oliver in confusion. She leans forward so she can speak to John in the front seat of the town car. “Dig, are we low on gas again?”

 

“No, Felicity,” Oliver says, his hand on her arm guiding her gently back into her seat. “We have to make a stop.”

 

“A stop?” Felicity frowns, watching out the window as John guides the car into the parking lot of an upscale apartment complex.

 

“I told my sister we would pick her up,” he explains and all of the dread and anxiety she had been feeling that morning settles back into Felicity’s stomach.

 

She had been so worried about Moira Queen and the very real danger her company is facing, she hadn’t even dedicated the proper amount of worry for the younger Queen woman. Oliver must note the sudden fear on her face because he pats her arm consolingly.

 

“Hey, relax,” he instructs and she sucks in a breath, holding it for a quick ten count. “She’s gonna love you.”

 

Felicity doesn’t think that helps much. Wouldn’t it make things easier for both of them if his family hates her? He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he slides out of the car. John follows, rounding the car to open Felicity’s door for her. She takes a fortifying breath before sliding out of the seat.

 

Oliver is already standing in front of one the doors, pressing the intercom when she gets out of the car. John lingers next to the car, so she decides to stay with him. If she can avoid having to go up to his sister’s apartment, she’s going to.

 

Impatiently, Oliver presses the buzzer once more and spins back to send a tired look their way. Next to her, John chuckles and shakes his head as he pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and offers a piece to Felicity. She takes it gratefully.

 

Oliver turns back to the door to press the button again, but the door pulls open suddenly and a small brunette with a bob leaps into his arms. He lets out a laugh at the reception and lifts the young woman’s feet off the ground, spinning in a quick circle. Once he sets her down, Felicity gets a better look at the girl as she smiles brightly up at her brother and speaks animatedly.

 

Her short hair frames the sharp angles of her face perfectly and she’s wearing a leather jacket with a gold, sequined skirt peeking out beneath it. Felicity thinks maybe she’s not the only one who didn’t want to show up at the Queen matriarch’s home looking drab.

 

“The Queens are human,” she comments to herself as Oliver wraps his arms around Thea again, squeezing her tightly. “Who knew?”

 

“Give them a break,” John says, startling her. She had forgotten he was still standing with her. He doesn’t sound defensive, but Felicity gets the impression that his and Oliver’s relationship is more than just professional, that they may actually be friends. He continues, “They may just surprise you.”

 

He leaves her at the car to greet Thea as well, letting her lead him inside to retrieve her bags and Felicity crosses her arms over herself, feeling out of place in this intimate moment. Oliver hangs back, coming to join her rather than following Thea and John up to the apartment.

 

“You’re going to have to introduce yourself at some point,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice that makes her rolls her eyes at him. He stops, eyes on the door to the apartment complex as he leans against the car next to her.

 

“I was giving you space,” she argues. “Trying to be respectful.”

 

“You’re being weird,” he accuses and she pouts.

 

“I… am weird,” she fumbles before turning to face him. “And so is this whole situation, okay? I’m trying to figure out the best approach.”

 

“Felicity, the best way to sell a lie is to believe it yourself,” he tells her and she frowns at him. “Just tell yourself that, for the next week, you and I are in a relationship and do what comes naturally.”

 

She opens her mouth to argue, because there is nothing natural or instinctive about this whole ridiculous situation. There’s no gut feeling telling her how one acts when they’re in love with Oliver Queen. It’s been years since her last long term relationship which had fizzled due to her lack of time for it. Oliver becomes distracted, his interest returning to the apartment in front of them.

 

“Jesus, Thea, do you think you packed enough?” He calls and Felicity turns to find Thea, a duffel bag and a purse in her hands, holding the door for John as he carries two moderately sized suitcases. Felicity shifts closer to Oliver, looping her hand over the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t react, instead continuing to tease his sister, “It’s only a week.”

 

“A week with mom,” she insists, letting the door fall closed behind John as he comes towards the car. “Which means she’s going to hate three out of every four outfits I bring, so I have to pack four times as much just to please her.”

 

Oliver pulls away from Felicity to help John get Thea’s things into the trunk of the car and Thea sets her sights on Felicity instead.

 

“So, you must be the mysterious fiancée I’d heard nothing about up until yesterday,” she says, thrusting her hand forward towards Felicity. “I’m Thea.”

 

“I know who you are,” she says on instinct, earning a strange look from Thea. She rushes on, reaching forward to grasp the other woman’s hand, “I mean, Oliver talks about you all the time. I feel like I already know you.”

 

Lie. Maybe. Well, she doesn’t know if it’s a lie, at least. Oliver hadn’t mentioned Thea on the way up, but that’s probably because he was waiting to drop the bombshell that they were picking her up. He’d said things like “oh, my sister and I” or “one time, when we were kids” during their little flash card game, but whatever. He probably would talk about Thea all the time if this were an actual relationship.

 

“I’m Felicity,” she tacks on quickly as she retracts her hand. The trunk closes and Oliver comes back around the car, placing his hand easily on Felicity’s back and stroking up and down the fabric of her coat.

 

“Right, well, my brother has told me almost nothing about you,” Thea says, eyes narrowing in at Oliver rather than her. Felicity looks up at him, standing closer than she thinks either of them have ever had an excuse to get, and he tilts his head and gives his sister an exasperated look.

 

“Thea, can we save the third degree for later?” He asks. “At least then, you and mom can interrogate me together.”

 

Felicity wants to shout at him that that does not sound like a better deal. Instead, she reaches around him with the pretense of placing her own hand on his back and pinches his lower back. He doesn’t even react and now Felicity is unfairly aware of how much of his back is muscle. Great.

 

“It is always more fun to gang up on you,” Thea considers, grinning at him. Oliver lets out a sigh that Felicity feels him deflate a little with. Maybe he knows it’s a bad idea and is just hoping to delay the inevitable.

 

“We should get going if we want to beat the traffic up to the mountains,” John says, pulling the passenger door open and looking to Felicity. “Felicity, maybe you’d like to sit with me the rest of the way. Give Oliver and Thea some time to catch up.”

 

She shoots him a grateful look, which she is certain isn’t subtle, but Oliver is already opening the door for Thea who’s sliding into the backseat so she thinks she’s in the clear. If Thea and Oliver are in the back of the town car without her, the brunt of conversation will be between them. Felicity is just glad that, despite his obvious amusement with the situation, John is quick on his feet.

 

They’d worked up a good enough proposal story on the way to Thea’s, plus some other light information about each other, and they only have about two hours left before they reach his mother’s house. Felicity had looked up the surrounding area once Oliver had told her where they’d be going. It’s basically the middle of nowhere. Up in the mountains with snow and poor cell phone reception.

 

Secluded. Which is exactly the opposite of what Felicity had been hoping for when Oliver explained the kind of holiday his mother likes to throw. She’d remarried a few years after his father had died, to Walter Steele interestingly enough, and they’d sold the Queen Estate in Starling City once Oliver and Thea had moved on. Moira and Walter had moved upstate, closer to the Canadian border, where it’s mostly mountains and small towns.

 

It’s not the type of place she would have expected Moira Queen to end up, but grief does funny things to people.

 

\---

 

The Queen siblings manage to fill the car with nearly unending conversation for the rest of the trip, which Felicity is incredibly grateful for. It’s also interesting to observe the dynamics going on around her. Thea excitedly updates Oliver on all of the things she’s been doing at college and how excited she is to be graduating in the Spring. Oliver mentions some things about the company or short personal anecdotes, but mostly he just keeps asking Thea questions. 

 

In between, Thea leans forward on occasion and asks John things - how his wife is doing, if baby Sara has started school yet - and Felicity is pleasantly surprised to find that the line between employers and employee seems blurred for the Queens and the head of security.

 

It doesn’t take long for the anxiety of the day to take its toll on her, though, and Felicity manages to pass the rest of the trip blissfully unconscious. 

 

The car rolling up a rough terrain pulls her out of it and it takes her groggy mind a minute to realize that those are snowy mountains passing by the windows and not low hanging clouds. The white snow is colored in soft blues and grays, reflecting the darkening sky back up at it.

 

“Good morning,” John comments, glancing over at her and she hums in response, stretching her legs out as best as she can in the small space. 

 

“It’s your turn,” she hears Thea say from the backseat.

 

“Thea, I have a guest,” Oliver responds and it sounds like they’re arguing. Felicity frowns, turning a little in her seat to try and hear them more.

 

“Even better,” Thea counters and there’s a bright, but clearly false, grin on her face. “Then you can share the work. She’s gonna have to deal with it eventually.”

 

“What’s going on?” Felicity asks, feeling comfortable cutting into the conversation now that she’s been mentioned. Oliver lets out a long, dramatic sigh, but it’s Thea who answers her.

 

“Ollie is trying to get out of spending the evening with mom and Walter,” she explains, before sending a pointed look towards him as she continues, “Even though it’s his turn.”

 

“Felicity and I are going to be the talk of the week as it is,” he points out, making Felicity’s stomach turn at the reminder. “Can’t you just take point with mom tonight so that we can get ourselves settled?”

 

“Why are you talking about spending time with your mom like you’re making a battle pan?” She asks, turning fully in her seat to look at them over the center console.

 

“We’re not,” Oliver argues.

 

“Mom has just become much more sentimental ever since she became an empty nester,” Thea explains. “Which means she can go a little overboard when we show up. It’s sweet, but overwhelming.”

 

“Which is why it would be nice if Felicity could get some time to adjust before she has to take the brunt of mom’s interest,” he says, an air of finality to his voice that Felicity thinks comes from being an older sibling. Thea seems to know she’s been beaten, huffing and sitting back against the seat.

 

“You so owe me,” she grumbles, pouting out the window. Oliver shakes his head at her before catching Felicity’s eye. He gives her a conspiratorial wink and she spins back around, slouching down in her own seat.

 

It takes them another fifteen minutes before they finally roll up the long driveway to the luxury cabin where their parents live. Felicity takes great care not to let her jaw drop too far, but she doesn’t miss the amused look John shoots her. It’s bigger than any cabin she’s ever seen - more in the leanings towards mansion - but it’s built to have a rustic aesthetic. The snow covered mountains behind it certainly help sell the affect.

 

Oliver opens her door for her before she has a chance. Thea is already out of the car and helping pull her duffle from the trunk while John removes the rest of the luggage. For rich kids, the Queens sure don’t seem to like to let other people do things for them. 

 

The effect of the house is even greater once she’s stepped out of the car, her heeled boots crunching in the snow. Warm yellow light pours from the wide windows that cover the house and she can see the twinkling of a Christmas tree in what must be a sitting room. Smoke billows up from a stone chimney attached to the roof. The overall effect is almost fairytale-esque. Though, Felicity will admit, it’s more Disney than Grimm, even if she is still dreading stepping inside.

 

“What do you think?” Oliver asks, his voice low as he leans towards her just a touch. She blinks a few times, blaming the fuzziness of her mind on her short nap in the car. He presses, “Will it do for the week?”

 

“I mean, I know you’re rich but this is,” she trails off, trying to find the words before just giving up and finishing with, “Wow.”

 

“I’m not rich,” Oliver debates and she can see him frowning at her from her peripheral. She finally takes her eyes off of the house to look at him. “My parents are rich.”

 

Felicity rolls her eyes, turning on her boot to go and help carry her own luggage up to the house. Thea passes by them, her duffle bag hanging from her arm and her suitcase rolling through the snow behind her.

 

“Which is something that only a rich person would say,” she informs him as she joins John at the trunk of the car. He lifts her purple suitcases out of the trunk and she has to tug her own canvas duffle from where it’s been shoved against one of the sides. When she tries to take one of her suitcases from John he levels her with a look and she lets him take them instead. Oliver only has one bag which he also carries easily on his own, along with Thea’s other suitcase.

 

Thea is stalling just outside of the door, her bags abandoned on the stone porch to allow her to shove her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Felicity doesn’t begrudge her it, her own body is already feeling the effects of no longer being in the heated car, her peacoat and scarf not offering enough protection. Thea waits until they’re all huddled together on the porch before looking over at Oliver and taking a deep breath.

 

Felicity wonders if this is how she looks every time she prepares to see her mother, too.

 

“Ready?” Thea asks and Oliver nods. She lifts her hand and presses the doorbell once, twice in quick succession. Felicity suddenly feels self conscious, smoothing out the front of her coat and running a hand over her curls.

 

There’s movement behind the frosted glass before the large wooden door swings open. Felicity is, maybe stupidly, expecting Moira to open the door to them and pull her children into a tight and unnecessarily long group hug. But, that’s more her mother’s type of reaction. Instead, a short, dark haired woman grins up at them.

 

“Raisa,” Oliver greets first, stepping forward to grasp the woman’s hands in a familiar greeting. “It is so good to see you.”

 

“And you, Mr. Oliver,” she responds and Felicity frowns at the title. Not Mr. Queen. Maybe this woman has been caring for them for a while, since before Oliver would have been old enough to be called mister anything. Raisa turns her interest to the other Queen now shivering on the porch, “Ms. Thea.”

 

Thea moves forward now, wrapping the woman in a hug. Once they part, Raisa steps to the side, pushing the door open wider and waving them into the house. It’s warmer the moment they cross the threshold and John and Oliver move to take bags from Felicity and Thea, setting them next to the door where the snow stuck to their wheels melts onto a rug.

 

“Where’s mom?” Thea asks, unzipping her jacket and tugging it from her shoulders. Underneath it, the sparkly skirt Felicity had noticed earlier has a black sweater with a red rose embellishment on the chest tucked into it.

 

“You’re mother will be right down, Thea,” a deep accented voice says and Walter Steele comes into the room. He looks the coziest of them all in a knit sweater and slacks with Christmas themed socks on his feet. Thea lights up at the sight of him, tucking herself easily into his embrace. He continues, “She’s finishing making sure the rooms are prepared. You all made surprisingly quick time.”

 

“We managed to head off the brunt of the traffic,” Oliver explains as Walter reaches around Thea’s embrace to shake his hand. “Dig has the route memorized by now.”

 

“What’s a few hours in the car two days before Christmas?” John offers sarcastically, earning an amused look from Walter. He reaches down to pick up the suitcases he had set down. “I’ll take your things upstairs.”

 

“Oh, I can get my own, Dig, thanks,” Felicity insists and John gives her a tired look. 

 

She wishes she hadn’t spoken at all, though, because she feels the room shift and the movement of attentions onto her instead. Oliver shifts closer to her, his arm wrapping around her back and pulling her next to him. She goes easily, trying to remember what he’d said about doing what comes naturally.

 

“Walter, this is Felicity,” Oliver introduces, which is good because Felicity’s mouth feels like cotton and she’s pretty sure if she tried to talk it would just be some inane babble. Not exactly a winning first impression.

 

“Yes, the fiancée he forgot to tell us about,” Moira announces, joining them in the entryway. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ to John as he passes with some of the bags they’d brought in. Felicity spies her own suitcase in his arms and resists the urge to roll her eyes. Moira continues, looking to Walter and Thea, “Do you know I had to hear about their engagement from Janice Bowen?”

 

The look on Walter’s face makes Felicity think she had mentioned it to him once or twice.

 

“Well, don’t be too offended,” Thea comments, pulling away from Walter to hug her mother. “After all, Oliver’s too busy for calls or even, you know, emails these days anyway.”

 

Felicity is surprised at how quickly the family had jumped to drag Oliver. She’d feel worse for him if it wasn’t definitely keeping the attention off of her. But, of course, that can’t last. Oliver squeezes her hip and she tries not tense in surprise at the affectionate touch.

 

“Come now,” Walter says, cutting off the complaining. She thinks he must notice the way that Oliver has gone tense. “Let’s give Oliver a break. Perhaps you two can berate him for his unavailability after the holidays.”

 

He must not have told his family exactly why it is he’s been so extra busy ever since Stellmoor International set its sight on Queen Consolidated. He’d practically told her as much when he’d insisted it was better that his mother believe this ridiculous engagement rather than know the truth of why they’re pretending.

 

“Yes, of course,” Moira nods once. Her hair is perfectly symmetric, bouncing with the movement, and Felicity feels intimidated just by her presence. And she hasn’t even spoken to her yet. “I’d much rather get to know Felicity.”

 

Spoke too soon. Felicity tenses as Moira’s attention falls to her and Oliver’s fingers tighten against her hip again, gentler this time as a reminder that he has her back. It’s oddly comforting.

 

“Oliver’s told me so much about you,” she says, stepping forward just enough to gesture at the family at large. He has. In the car on the way to Thea’s he had properly prepped her on his mother, with some information thrown in about Walter. She looks to him, reaching out and hoping she isn’t laying it all on too thick as Oliver takes her hand and squeezes it, “I’m so happy to finally get the opportunity to meet you all.”

 

She feels as though she’s been slid under a microscope. The three of them are looking at her and Oliver as he releases her hand to move forward. He steps up to his mother instead and Moira pulls him into an easy hug, murmuring something Felicity can’t make out.

 

“I’m very sorry I didn’t tell you all right away,” he says once she’s let him go. “It’s all just very new.”

 

“Yes, dear,” Moira says consolingly, patting his cheek. “That’s usually how engagements are.”

 

Oliver shakes his head at the teasing lilt to her tone. Moira drops her arms, spinning to look to Thea and Walter.

 

“Well, shall we give Felicity the grand tour, then?” She asks, reaching for Thea who loops her arm through her mother’s, her leather jacket still draped over her arm. Walter takes the jacket from her, turning to hang it up in a closet Felicity had overlooked.

 

She moves to remove her own coat, unbuttoning the front of the peacoat and startling at the feeling of Oliver’s hands helping ease it off her shoulders. She offers him a grateful look as she unwraps the purple scarf from around her neck.

 

“Mom, Felicity and I have been driving for a while,” he says as he hands off her coat and scarf to Walter where he still stands in front of the closet. His own peacoat comes off, following hers into the closet. “Maybe we could just get ourselves settled before dinner. Save the full house tour for tomorrow.”

 

Felicity wraps her hand around his arm, just over his elbow, and tries her best to look appreciative of Moira’s offer. She thinks maybe her nerves are actually working on her side here. Her anxiety along with her nap in the car have probably left her looking ragged and tired anyway.

 

“Of course,” Moira says finally, though there’s a definite layer of disappointment in her voice. Oliver gives her a tight smile as she turns to Thea. “Your sister and I have cookies to bake anyway, don’t we, Thea?”

 

“We sure do,” Thea responds, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her cheery voice. Moira gives her a tired, amused look, but doesn’t seem to have her feelings hurt by the response. Felicity figures once you’ve raised a teenage daughter, you become accustomed to it.

 

Walter takes Moira’s hand to lead the group out of the foyer, turning in the opposite direction of the way John had gone to take their bags upstairs. Thea shoots Oliver a dirty look, mouthing the words ‘you owe me,’ just in case he’s forgotten. He sighs, deflating next to her, and Felicity lets go of his arm.

 

“Come on, I’ll show you upstairs,” he offers as he turns to grab the bags that John hadn’t been able to carry. Felicity helps, lifting her own duffle onto her arm along with her purse and grabbing one of Thea’s suitcases.

 

He leads her in the direction that John had gone, around a corner into a wide, carpeted hallway. At the end of it, she can see the twinkling lights and green fronds of a large Christmas tree peeking out from within the room. She figures it must be a living room of sorts. There are photos lining the walls of the hallway, but she doesn’t get a moment to examine them as Oliver turns and leads her up a wide staircase.

 

From down the opposite hallway, soft music plays and she recognizes the sounds of Christmas choruses. It all only manages to add to her discomfort as she follows Oliver up the stairs. This is not her holiday and it’s not her family to be forcing her way into. Everything is red and green and gold the further through the house she moves. Oliver navigates the hallway at the top of the stairs with ease, knowing exactly which room they’ll have been assigned to.

 

“Here it is,” he says, once they reach a room she’s sure is clear on the other side of the house from where they’d entered. He wraps his knuckles lightly against the wood before reaching for the doorknob to push it open.

 

Inside, large windows look out onto the mountains, confirming Felicity’s suspicions that they were on the opposite side of the house, and the sky has darkened to a deep blue. There are a few stars peeking through, but cloud coverage hides them as snow has begun to fall slowly outside.

 

“Wow,” she breathes, unable to stop the word from falling from her lips. She sets her bags down next to the door and crosses to the windows. Outside, the windows open into a hooded balcony with stone accents.

 

“I spared us the parental inquisition for the time being,” Oliver says, pulling her focus from the view outside of the room. She turns to face him, crossing her arms in front of her and tugging the striped sleeves of her shirt down over her hands. He continues, setting his own bag next to where John had already dropped off her suitcase, “We can’t avoid dinner tonight, though. I figure we’ll eat, make niceties. I’ll distract mom and Walter with Queen Consolidated talk. Then, we’ll just claim the drive out here took a lot out of us.”

 

Felicity nods in agreement with the plan, still feeling unsure of herself. She itches for something to do, so she crosses to her purse and digs her phone from within. It lights up with a few messages, mostly emails that she swipes to dismiss. Settling on the edge of the bed, she thumbs in her passcode and scrolls through the messages from Alena.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet,” Oliver points out and she looks up, surprised by the comment. He’s standing across from her, leaning against a dresser with a decently sized flat screen on it.

 

“You say that like you see me enough to know how quiet I should be,” she says and he frowns because, well, they weren’t exactly friends before this. Running into each other at city functions and benefits do not besties make.

 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he insists instead and Felicity levels him with a look for the empty platitude. “I’m serious. It’s a big house, easy to hide away. Once my parents’ other guests arrive, you and I won’t be the only interesting thing happening in the house.”

 

“Other guests?” she questions. “More family?”

 

“Not literally,” he explains. “Christmas Eve and Christmas are for the four of us, typically. And, now, you. John will stay tonight, but head back to the city early tomorrow to spend the holiday with his own family.”

 

“And everyone else?”

 

“They’ll start to show up in the days following,” he continues. “My mom and Walter decided to move out here to the middle of nowhere, so they insist everyone come stay with them for the new year. Like my sister said, my mother is an empty nester.”

 

“Right,” Felicity nods, huffing out a breath and sitting up a little straighter. “You should probably tell me about everyone else, then. If you’re all this close, they’ll think it’s strange I don’t know who any of them are.”

 

“Later,” Oliver agrees. He pushes off of the dresser and snags Thea’s duffle bag. “I’m gonna drop this in my sister’s room. The bathroom is through there.”

 

Felicity looks around towards the door he’s indicated. It’s slightly ajar and she can see the edge of the sink, the corner of a soft looking rug probably pushed up in front of the shower.

 

“Dinner is usually at seven, so we have a couple hours to settle and prepare ourselves,” Oliver continues and she angles herself back to look at him again. He’s smirking at her. “Maybe you can make use of those flashcards again.”

 

“I know you’re mocking me,” she says. “But that’s actually a really good idea.”

 

She swears she hears him groan as he disappears into the hallway, pushing the bedroom door shut behind him. Felicity flops backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering just what she’s gotten herself into.

 

\---

 

As it turns out, the notecards a bad idea. Not because they aren’t helpful, but because they may have actually been too helpful. Now, Felicity has just all of this information about Oliver and his family running around her head with nowhere to put it. They’re not exactly going to be playing the newlywed game at dinner, but she’d thought it might help.

 

Instead, she’s just feeling even more twitchy than normal at dinner. The food smells amazing, but she only manages a few bites while Moira asks Oliver or Thea things rather than her. For the most part, Oliver has managed to field most of the questions aimed their direction, which could come off as just a cute couple thing to do. Except, Moira had given him a reproachful look the last time he’d done so.

 

Which means the next time someone directs a question her way, she’s actually going to have to open her mouth to answer them. Something she does not feel confident in her ability to do well at this moment. The last thing they need is for her to completely lose her filter and give them away.

 

She stares enviously at Oliver’s glass of wine. She’d turned down Walter’s offer for a glass in favor of staying clear headed, but now she really wishes she’d at least taken one of those emergency benzos.

 

“So, Felicity,” Walter starts, shaking her out of the staredown she’s having with Oliver’s wine glass. “How did you and Oliver meet?”

 

“Oh, um, it was about two years ago?” She starts, looking to Oliver for confirmation. He nods, but it’s more of a stalling tactic than an actual question. “The mayor was holding a re-election event and my board was insistent it would be good for me to be in good standing with him.”

 

“She was wearing this red dress,” Oliver takes over and she turns her head to look at him. He’s really laying it on thick, because he’s giving her this soft look at the memory. He looks back towards his family with a grin as he continues, “I had no idea who she was but I knew I wanted to meet her. But, once I finally walked up to her, she was deep into lecturing the mayor about getting behind the environmental group’s initiative to clean up the bay.”

 

Felicity is unable to contain her groan, covering her face with her hand and wishing they had agreed to whitewash the story just a little bit. His family doesn’t need to know she’s an overly passionate bleeding heart.

 

“In my defense,” she cuts in. “City council had already passed the initiative, so all the mayor needed to do was publicly support it to make a good headline.”

 

“Needless to say, the mayor came out the next day in support of the cleanup efforts,” he continues. “In fact, I was so impressed by her stance that Queen Consolidated made a sizable donation to the effort as well.”

 

Wait. What? Felicity drops her hand, looking over at him with a frown. His attentions have returned to his plate as he lifts his wine glass.

 

“It was really something to behold,” he finishes, tilting the glass to his lips. She wants to question him on it, find out if he’d really donated or if he’s just adding flourish to his story. He hadn’t even spoken to her at that party besides the cursory introductions made by the mayor.

 

“Well, that’s really very sweet,” Thea offers drolly, clapping her hands together. “But I just want to see the bling.”

 

“Thea,” Moira admonishes, but Felicity is already shaking herself out of her thoughts and reaching her left hand across the table for Thea to see. The younger girl takes her hand with both of her own and turns it this way and that, watching as the diamond reflects the lights in the room.

 

“What?” She laughs. “I haven’t seen this thing since you locked it in the vault. It’s bigger than I remember.”

 

Felicity’s stomach tightens at the reminder that the ring on her finger isn’t just a prop in their charade. It’s a family treasure. Something to be placed in a vault and only brought out when Oliver met someone he loved enough to marry them. She feels sick, the roasted potatoes in her stomach threatening to make a break for it.

 

Thea releases her hand and Felicity pulls it back towards herself, tucking it under the table, down into her lap where she can hide the ring against the fabric of her pink pencil skirt.

 

“So, if you met at the party two years ago,” Thea says, looking between them now that her interest in the diamond on Felicity’s had has been sated, “when did you actually start dating?”

 

“Oh, that’s a really good question,” Felicity says, laughing a little to hide her nerves. She’s planning on just making something up, because of course this is one of the questions she hadn’t planned for, but Oliver beats her to it.

 

“Well, it did take her a while to warm up to me,” he says, earning a sarcastic look of shock from his sister which he ignores. “I started coming up with reasons to visit her office, things like that. Eventually, she was just overwhelmed by my charm.”

 

“Overwhelmed,” Felicity scoffs, trying not to linger on where the truth and lies part ways. The best lies are rooted in truth, that’s what her dad had taught her many years ago. Of course Oliver would pull his office visits as a romantic story for his family. Whose eyes are now on her. Because she had openly scoffed at her fiancé’s romantic tale.

 

God, and this is her without the wine.

 

“I just mean, you know,” she fumbles, looking over at Oliver who’s staring at her with raised eyebrows. “Eventually I gave in because I couldn’t take the begging anymore.”

 

“I don’t beg,” he argues with a frown. Felicity places her hand consolingly over his on the table, leaning towards him just a touch.

 

“Oh, honey, it’s fine,” she assures him. “In hindsight it’s all very sweet.”

 

She can see his jaw tighten, the way he’s resisting the urge to glare at her. This is what he gets for acting like his visits to her office were some romantic gesture of longing and not just a way to get under her skin any chance he got.

 

It’s Thea who breaks their shared look, laughing as she lifts her own wine glass up to her lips and laughs at them over it. Felicity retracts her hand from over top of Oliver’s and looks back to the table.

 

“I’d say it’s safe to say he won you over,” Thea comments and Felicity lets out a quiet laugh of agreement.

 

“I guess so.”

 

\---

 

“Okay, so dinner was not without incident,” Felicity comments as she comes out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. She’d used the space to change into her pajamas and the fluffy royal blue pajama pants patterned with snowflakes had felt appropriate when she packed them but…

 

Now she’s standing in a shared room with Oliver in nothing but snowflake pajama pants and a tank top and it all feels so very, very not right. He turns around from where he’d been picking through his bag, folding things and moving them into the dresser beneath the TV, and gives her a look.

 

“You mean the moment where you nearly gave away to my whole family that you can barely stand me?” He asks, crossing his arms over the plain t-shirt he’s changed into. “I’m sure no one noticed.”

 

She flinches at the comment because, yeah, that was her fault. Even when she says almost nothing she still manages to say too much. It’s a curse. Oliver zips his now empty bag back up and tosses it next to the door. Felicity twists her hands in front of her uncomfortably, staring at the bed a few feet in front of her.

 

How had she overlooked this part? The part where they’re adults who are engaged, of course they’d want to share a room. She’s never been particularly religious in that aspect and it’s not like Oliver doesn’t have plenty of experience in the area. Of course his family would assume they’re sleeping together. Except now, her tank top and, embarrassingly, the push up bra she’d layered underneath don’t feel sufficient enough at all.

 

“So, how are we…?” She starts, trailing off as she gestures at the bed in front of her. The bedding set across it is shades of emerald and gold, a variation on the Christmas theme but blessedly not some gaudy red and green number. It looks warm and comfortable, though she doubts she’ll get a minute of restful sleep in it.

 

“I can take the couch,” Oliver says, already leaning back against the gray piece of furniture in question. She frowns at him.

 

“Are you sure?” She asks, glancing warily along the length of the plush couch. It faces towards the windows and the view beyond rather than the TV. “Because that thing is like half of you.”

 

“I’ve slept in worse,” he assures her, though she thinks it’s just something to say. 

 

She has a hard time imagining him sleeping in anything less than a bed suited to both his stature and his status. She nods, though, because it’s not an argument she cares to have. If he’s offering her the large bed, who is she to refuse?

 

The comforter is soft under her hands as she untucks it and tugs it down the mattress. Oliver moves around the room barefoot as he removes his silver watch and pulls an extra blanket from the closet. Felicity settles back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling until he turns the light off and she can no longer see it.

 

The sounds of him settling into the couch are loud in the silent room and Felicity is sure, if he tried, he could hear her heart battering against her ribs.

 

“Goodnight, Oliver,” she offers quietly into the darkness. It’s silent for a moment and she thinks maybe he’s angrier with her than she’d realized or has somehow already managed to drift off.

 

Finally, he responds in a quiet, gruff voice, “Goodnight, Felicity.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve arrives, bringing a surprise from Moira with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys the response to this had me floored! Thank you all so much for commenting, leaving kudos and just expressing interest in general! It means the world and I'm so sorry I haven't had time to respond to comments, but just know I get really smiley and emotional each time one comes to my email. <33
> 
>  
> 
> [More outfits because chill? What's that??](https://twitter.com/fellicityqueen/status/937797399820500998)

Somehow, Felicity manages some semblance of sleep. The exhaustion of the day takes over and, despite her discomfort, her feeling of otherness in this great big house with this small family, she manages to sleep well into the morning.

 

The room is brightly lit by the sunlight reflecting off the snow outside the large windows. She groans, pulling the blanket up over her head and trying to keep from going blind from the sudden brightness. Rolling away from the direction of the windows, she slides out from beneath the comforter, unable to ignore the pressing need from her bladder.

 

It doesn’t really strike her until she’s washing her hands in the sink exactly where she is. Shaking the water off of her hands, she eases the bathroom door open and glances around it, looking towards the couch in front of the windows. She can’t see Oliver sticking out of it, neither head nor legs, and the blanket he’d pulled down last night is folded neatly over the back.

 

So, he’s not here.

 

The clock on the stand next to the bed tells her it’s earlier than she’d expected. She moves to go for the door, intent on finding either Oliver or the kitchen, but halts at the reminder of what she’s wearing. Surely no one in the house would judge her for walking around in snowflake PJs with bedhead. Or maybe they would.

 

“Ugh,” she groans, moving back to the bathroom to take a shower and ignoring the grumbling in her stomach.

 

Once she’s washed and battled her hair into some semblance of normalcy, she pulls out a pair of jeans and a nice sweater she’d packed. As much as a high pair of heels and short skirt make her feel more powerful, it seemed wrong to let that be all she packed. If she were actually spending a week in the mountains with the man she loved, she’d probably want to be comfortable.

 

It’s not until she reaches the bottom of the stairs and can hear soft Christmas tunes coming from the end of it that Felicity even remembers it’s Christmas Eve. She hadn’t grown up with the holiday, so it’s not like she has expectations necessarily, but she’s seen movies. She guesses she always thought something in the air should change, that there should be more movement and excitement in the house.

 

Instead, it sounds kind of empty. There’s some noise coming from down the hall in the direction of the kitchen and of course the ever present Christmas crooning coming from the direction of the room with the tree. But, otherwise, for all she can tell she might be the only person in the house.

 

As if she’s summoned it by thought alone, the large door in the entryway opens as Felicity steps into the room. A gust of light wind blows some snowflakes into the room, embedding themselves into the carpet, as Thea steps over the threshold. She notices Felicity as she unzips her jacket and crosses to the closet.

 

“Hey, good morning,” she greets, pulling her jacket off and tossing it lazily into the closet rather than hanging it up. It reveals a deep red sweater with an unraveling effect that reveals much of the younger woman’s stomach. Seeing her outfit, it makes Felicity feel better about her own casual choice of clothes.

 

“Morning,” Felicity responds, crossing her arms over herself to protect from the cold Thea has brought inside with her. “Have you seen Oliver?”

 

“He’s probably out for a run,” Thea explains, toeing off her brown boots onto the rug next to the door. She looks up at Felicity and frowns. “He still does his early morning runs, doesn’t he?”

 

Right. Because if Oliver were actually her fiancé, she would know that he goes for a run every morning. He could have at least mentioned it last night.

 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she nods a little jerkily, her arms tightening around herself as she works to find an excuse. “I just figured he might let himself sleep in on a vacation, you know?”

 

“I don’t think Ollie even knows what sleeping in is anymore,” Thea scoffs, crossing the room to join Felicity near the hallway. She glances down at Felicity’s feet and smirks, placing her hands on her hips. “Nice socks.”

 

Felicity looks down at her own feet, feeling her cheeks go warm at the comment, and crosses one over the other. It does nothing to hide the bright blue socks with winter gear clad penguins patterned across them. Thea’s teasing isn’t malicious, but Felicity feels self-conscious nonetheless. She hadn’t even thought about it while she was getting dressed, just pulled them on.

 

“Are you feeling up for that house tour now?” Thea asks. “Or would you rather start with breakfast?”

 

She’s still not sure if she’ll even manage to eat anything and she appreciates Thea offering to show her around, so she’s planning on taking that option. Except her stupid, traitorous stomach lets out what is possibly a sound barrier shattering grumble and Thea grins at her.

 

“Breakfast it is,” she laughs before grabbing Felicity’s wrist to lead her down the hallway in the direction of the noise. Even as they move away from the soft, classic holiday tunes playing from one end of the hallway, it’s replaced by more upbeat, contemporary Christmas music coming from the kitchen.

 

By the end of this, Felicity will probably have it all permanently stuck in her head.

 

In the kitchen, they find Raisa as the source of the noise. A small bluetooth speaker on the counter fills the room with music. Thea lets go of Felicity’s arm to round the island and snag a beautifully frosted sugar cookie from a tray.

 

“That’s not breakfast,” Raisa reprimands as Thea takes a seat on a stool in front of the island as she bites into the cookie. Felicity follows, perching herself on the stool next to Thea’s as the younger girl offers an innocent smile. Raisa doesn’t seem amused, instead turning her attention to Felicity, “Ms. Smoak, did you sleep well?”

 

“Yeah,” Felicity nods, surprised that it’s not a lie. She had slept much better than she’d expected to anyway. “And, just Felicity is fine, thank you.”

 

“Felicity here is clearly just starving,” Thea says, gesturing dramatically over at her. “Do you think we could make some of those cinnamon waffles?”

 

Felicity is a little surprised at the way Thea asks it, leaning forward on the island and smiling blindingly at Raisa who gives in easily. It’s not a command, but a request, and when Raisa agrees, Thea hops off of her stool and heads for the fridge to help retrieve the ingredients. 

 

Between Raisa and Thea, they begin creating a pile of fixings in front of Felicity at the island. Finally, Raisa pulls a large stand mixer and metal bowl from one of the lower cabinets and places it on the counter as Thea begins measuring out cups of flour into the bowl.

 

“Can I help at all?” Felicity asks hesitantly, watching Thea and Raisa move around each other. She feels awkward just sitting and watching them, but the best kind of waffles she’s ever made came out of the toaster. This is not her forte.

 

“You could grind the cinnamon,” Thea offers. “That’s always fun.”

 

“Um, okay,” Felicity nods, reaching for the small metal tin labeled cinnamon. Inside, full sticks of cinnamon are bundled together with a thin strip of paper. Raisa directs her towards the small grinder near the sink and tells her how to use it.

 

It does not go well. The hand grinder isn’t turning the way it should and all the cinnamon sticks seem to be doing is bouncing around within. Felicity is a god damned certified genius, but somehow she can’t make this stupid coffee grinder do what she wants. Not that she’s going to own up to that, instead she continues to glare at the kitchen tool and try to make it work, hoping the other women in the room don’t notice her struggle.

 

A gust of cold air hits her as the door leading outside from the kitchen opens and closes. She bites down on her tongue, focused on the grinder rather than the new presence in the kitchen. It doesn’t strike her that it could be Moira or Walter now standing in the kitchen watching her mentally arguing with a coffee grinder.

 

“Cinnamon waffles?” Oliver questions and Felicity finally looks round, glad it’s just him. Not that she really wants him to know that she can’t do this simple task either. He’s pulling off his windbreaker, a dark gray sweatshirt layered underneath it, and leaves it hanging from the back of one of the chairs around the small table in the room.

 

“It’s really the best way to induct Felicity into the family, don’t you think?” Thea asks, grinning as she breaks eggs into a smaller bowl, using the shell to separate the yolk from the whites. Oliver hums, coming up behind Felicity.

 

“You doing alright?” He asks quietly now that he’s standing over her shoulder. She appreciates his discretion, but she still refuses to be beaten so she grunts out an affirmative noise and focuses back in on the grinder. Oliver continues, “There’s a trick to it.”

 

His hands fall over hers and Felicity startles at the intimate position he’s put them in, arms wrapped around her as he pops the top of the grinder off and adjusts the cinnamon sticks within. She holds her breath as he closes it back up, directing her hands back to the lever and encouraging her to twist it. The sticks begin to grind into a powder.

 

“Thanks,” she says quietly as he steps away from her. He declares he’s going to go take a shower and Felicity’s fingers hurt from how tightly she’s now holding the lever of the grinder.

 

“Felicity,” Thea says, pulling her attention and the room sharpens back into focus. When she turns, Thea is grinning at her. “I think it’s dead.”

 

Felicity looks down at the grinder, cinnamon sticks now turned to a fine powder within, and chuckles uncomfortably, shaking her head at herself. Raisa relieves her of the kitchen tool, spooning out the cinnamon to add it to the mixture.

 

“Right, yeah,” she shrugs, trying to laugh at herself. “I guess it was kind of soothing.”

 

\---

 

“Do you really go for a run every morning?” Felicity asks, examining the photos hanging from the wall as they move down the hallway. She lingers at one, a teenaged Oliver with a tiny Thea on his back, both grinning wildly at the camera. Besides the unfortunate hair choices on Oliver’s part, it’s a lovely photo.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I probably should have given you a heads up, but you seem to have survived breakfast.”

 

She nods, moving onto the next photo. Breakfast had gone pretty smoothly after the grinder incident. The waffles were so good, there wasn’t really much room for conversation between bites anyway. Felicity had put the focus solely on Thea when they did manage to chat. The young girl is interesting, to say the least. She’d explained to Felicity that she’s graduating so late from college because she’d decided to double major in, of all things, abnormal psych and fashion merchandising.

 

“I’ve known a lot of sociopaths in my life,” she’d explained, like that was just a normal sentence to say. “I’m writing my thesis on the correlation between money and a lack of empathy.”

 

Needless to say, Felicity had become more than impressed by Oliver’s younger sister.

 

“I like your sister,” she tells him, turning to face him rather than the memories decorating the walls. “She’s really smart.”

 

“Well, one of us had to be,” he jokes and she shakes her head at him.

 

After their late breakfast, Oliver had come back from his shower changed into a nice deep blue sweater and chinos. He’d pulled Felicity away, insisting on taking over with the tour that Thea had been promising her. His sister had taken the blow off easily, seeming to understand that they just wanted some time alone. More likely, Oliver had come to rescue her so she could get a moment to breathe without worrying about giving away the whole game. She appreciated it.

 

She stops to turn towards him, frowning.

 

“Oliver, you’ve kept a company that should have gone under years ago afloat,” she reminds him and he ducks his head, looking away from her. “Dumb people can’t do that.”

 

Of all of her criticisms of Oliver Queen over the years, she’s never thought him stupid. Oblivious, maybe. Occasionally obtuse. But never actually stupid. He might not be doing the technical nonsense that she and her team do, working closely with engineers and scientists and programmers, but he’s managed to make Queen Consolidated see profits when it shouldn’t have.

 

“Some job I’ve done,” he comments, sounding tired at the reminder of the company as he returns them to their pace of walking the halls. Felicity suddenly wishes she hadn’t brought it up. “If this doesn’t work to keep QC’s doors open, nothing will.”

 

“Hey,” she says quietly, reaching over and wrapping her fingers around his forearm, “this merger is gonna save both of us.”

 

After a moment, he nods at her words and she releases his arm. They continue their path around the house, Oliver pointing out things like guest rooms and extra bathrooms. It’s a nice gesture, but ultimately a bit useless. Felicity doubts she’ll ever find herself just wandering the house and she already knows where the kitchen is.

 

Eventually, they make their way back downstairs and he leads her down the hall towards the room with the soft music and the large tree. The sight of it peeking around the frame of the door hadn’t done the large evergreen justice. It’s real, she can tell just by the scent of the room, and covered in ornaments ranging from small to the size of her head.

 

“Subtle,” she comments, gazing up at the tree. It surprises a laugh out of Oliver who shakes his head at her before settling a hand on her back and directing her through the room.

 

“Come on,” he instructs, leading her through an arching doorway into what looks to be a secondary dining room. It’s grander than the room they’d eaten dinner in the night before. A long table is covered in a red tablecloth and Thea is sitting on one side of it with a silver tray in front of her.

 

“Finally,” Thea comments, rolling her eyes. “You guys sure took your sweet time. I thought I was gonna have to do this by myself.”

 

“Do what?” Felicity asks nervously, settling into the chair across from Thea that Oliver pulls out for her. Without answering her, he rolls his eyes at his sister and grabs the tray from in front of her.

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Thea,” he says. “It’s not like there’s a time crunch.”

 

He leaves the room with the tray, leaving Felicity to look confusedly over at Thea who grins a little devilishly.

 

“You got the cinnamon waffle tradition treatment,” she explains. “Now it’s time for our next tradition.”

 

And that’s it. That’s the all the explanation Thea is going to give up, even as Felicity continues to stare at her in confusion. She thinks the younger woman is actually enjoying making Felicity so tense that she can barely breathe. She reminds herself that Oliver wouldn’t actually force her to do anything too crazy, whatever this weirdness might be, but Thea’s silence is not reassuring.

 

“Okay, here we go,” Oliver announces coming back into the room. The tray in his arms is no longer empty and Felicity instantly feels ridiculous for being worried about what this could be. Instead of whatever weirdness she’d been expecting, the tray now has two meticulously crafted, but bare, gingerbread houses on it.

 

This family is so weird.

 

He sets the tray back down in front of Thea, turned so that one of the houses is in front of her and the other is in front of Felicity. There are bowls of candies and bags of frosting now laid across the tray as well. Oliver settles into the chair next to Felicity.

 

“Where are mom and Walter?” He asks, looking across the table at Thea. Felicity ignores the way his arm falls across the back of her chair.

 

“Walter took Raisa to the train station,” Thea explains, already pulling a bowl of gumdrops and a bag of frosting towards herself, “and mom said she needed to do some last minute Christmas shopping.”

 

She finishes the comment with a pointed look at her brother who cringes. It takes Felicity a moment to realize why.

 

“Oh, no, that’s because of me,” she groans, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. Oliver’s hand drops from the back of her chair to her shoulder, squeezing gently.

 

“No, it’s on me for waiting to tell them,” he insists. 

 

Technically, it’s Isabel Rochev’s fault if they want to get literal, but Felicity isn’t going to say that in front of Thea. She feels terrible that Moira thinks she needs to buy her anything as a present. Especially since she won’t exactly be sticking around. She’ll make sure Oliver gets whatever it is back to his mother after their breakup.

 

“You guys are acting like shopping for us isn’t one of mom’s favorite pass times anyway,” Thea tells them, standing from her chair to meticulously apply a scalloped line of frosting to the roof of the gingerbread house. Felicity can’t help but laugh a bit at her focus.

 

“Do you want to…?” Oliver asks, trailing off as he gestures toward the house on their side of the table.

 

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she insists. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing. I’ll just watch.”

 

He nods and Felicity gets the feeling that this isn’t just for fun, but that maybe he and Thea have added a bit of a competition to it. Either way, the amount of focus they both put into carefully covering the houses in frosting and candy is inarguably adorable. She watches them work, pulling a bowl of peppermints towards herself and snacking on them.

 

The Queen siblings don’t, apparently, do anything by halves. Instead, Felicity spends over two hours watching them take their gingerbread decorating very seriously. There’s some very sophisticated trash talk thrown around, as well as some gumdrops.

 

Felicity spends most of it at the table with them, egging on their ridiculous insults, but gets up a few times because even this can’t hold her interest. At one point, she heads upstairs to retrieve her cell phone and check in with the company, but the service isn’t allowing it, so she ends up playing solitaire on her phone and occasionally taking photos of the Queens as they bicker and frost.

 

“Hello?” A voice calls from the direction of the entryway and Felicity hears the front door close.

 

“Dining room,” Thea calls back, barely looking up from her work adding thin lines of shutters to the windows. The sound of heels crossing the wooden floor of the sitting room reaches them before Moira comes through the archway.

 

“Ah, I see the games have begun,” she comments, surveying their work from the doorway. Thea sets the frosting bag down and Oliver twists in his chair to look at his mother. She looks to Felicity, “How long have they been at it?”

 

“Longer than you’d expect,” she teases, smirking over at Oliver. At one point, she’d shifted her chair so that she could stretch her legs out over the back of his seat. He’s spent so much time either standing or sitting on the edge of his seat, it hasn’t become a problem.

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised how long they can spend melding together peppermint roof tiles,” Moira laughs, surprising Felicity with the warmth of it.

 

“Well, there probably won’t be any of those this year,” Oliver says, leaning towards Felicity to grab the bowl of peppermints she’d eaten halfway through. She grins innocently at him and he chuckles at her.

 

“Your family must have some traditions for Christmas, Felicity,” Moira says after a moment, rounding the table to take a seat next to Thea. “What do you usually do this time of year?”

 

“Oh, uh,” Felicity shifts, pulling her feet off of Oliver’s chair and sitting up, “I’m actually Jewish, so we don’t really do anything this time of year. Hanukkah ended last week.”

 

“Oh,” Moira says, her eyes widening in surprise before turning an accusatory gaze onto Oliver. “Oliver did not tell me that. We could have done something.”

 

“No, it’s fine, really,” Felicity rushes to assure her. “I don’t usually do anything too elaborate anyway because my mom lives in Nevada.”

 

“Well, if there’s anything that we can do this week to make you feel more comfortable, just let us know,” Moira insists and Felicity nods quickly, wishing to move away from the topic. Oliver squeezes her knee, pulling her attention back to him, and he points at the gingerbread house.

 

“What do you think?” He asks softly and she’s grateful for the distraction. She hums, tilting her head to the side and considering the meticulously decorated sugar-covered house. She looks back up at him.

 

“Could use a topiary or two,” she teases and he shakes his head at her.

 

Moira spends time with them for a while as Thea and Oliver get back into it. Felicity pulls a bowl of mini marshmallows towards her and layers them together in threes with dabs of frosting, setting the tiny, fluffy snowmen on the tray in front of Oliver’s house.

 

“Cute,” he murmurs, noticing what she’s added. She smiles to herself, shredding bits of licorice into thin strips to give them arms and scarves. Moira leaves after a while to change and finish getting presents moved under the tree.

 

The reminder strikes a thought in her and she pinches Oliver’s wrist with the sudden thought. He flinches, pulling his arm away and raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“Hey, can you take a break for a minute?” She asks, dragging her hand down his forearm soothingly. “I want to talk to you about something.”

 

“Uh oh,” Thea interjects, smirking even as she continues placing licorice strip siding.

 

“Sure,” Oliver nods, setting the frosting bag down and wiping his hands on a towel. 

 

He stands, holding his hand out to her and Felicity slides hers into it, letting him pull her from her own seat. He leads her into the sitting room, towards the large and imposing tree. There are boxes underneath, but she thinks they’re mostly for decoration rather than actual gifts.

 

“What’s up?” He asks, frowning down at her. She presses up a little bit on her toes, feeling incredibly short standing in front of him with just her fuzzy penguin socks on her feet.

 

“Your mom got me a gift,” she tells him. Oliver blinks at her.

 

“Yeah,” he says, “so?”

 

“ _ So _ ,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her stomach, “I’m the mysterious fiancée they didn’t know anything about and they got me a gift. I would have known about your family before this week, so why wouldn’t I have bought them gifts?”

 

“My family is not going to be offended that you didn’t buy them Christmas presents, Felicity,” he assures her, placing his hands on her biceps calmingly. She lifts her forearms, knocking his hands away with the backs of her hands.

 

“Oliver, it’s the principle of the thing,” she insists.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” he argues.

 

“This is your ridiculous plan,” she reminds him and he sighs, tilting his face up towards the ceiling. “So, maybe less arguing with me and more listening to my opinions.”

 

“I do nothing but, honey,” he bites. “I’ll call a car and we’ll head into town.”

 

“My hero,” she sighs sarcastically as he heads out of the room.

 

\---

 

“So this is where people mean when they talk about Nowheresville, USA,” Felicity comments as they walk down the street of the small town a few miles from the Queen house. The snow crunches under her boots and she’s glad she’d brought something with a block heel.

 

“Stores are gonna start closing soon,” Oliver reminds her, ignoring the joke. He’s been grumpy since she’d pulled him away from his gingerbread house and they’d spent the whole car ride out here in silence. She’d feel worse if she weren’t completely incapable of picking out gifts for his family without his help.

 

“I haven’t forgotten from the last two times you’ve told me,” she tells him, rolling her eyes and he sighs next to her. “Look, just tell me what your family likes and we’ll be done.”

 

“You can’t really go wrong with clothes for Thea,” he suggests, guiding her towards a small boutique with a mannequin display in the window. She lets him guide her from place to place, offering suggestions, but ultimately letting her choose for herself.

 

His surly attitude fades as they move between stores, Felicity picking up random items and holding them out to him with a light joke. She thinks it helps, or maybe they’re sympathy chuckles, but she’ll take what she can get.

 

The sun is disappearing behind the horizon by the time they finish and the shops are beginning to close up, but Felicity feels confident in her purchases. She’d picked out a large, fluffy red scarf for Thea, an early edition of Macbeth that was truly a miracle find for Walter, and a sterling silver photo frame with snowflakes engraved into the metal for Moira. She’d explained to Oliver that she could print out one of the photos she’d taken of him and Thea as they decorated and put it in the frame before giving it to his mother.

 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” She asks, holding the frame self consciously in her hands. Her fingers have already created smudges across the silver surface, so she holds it by the velvet backing now.

 

“Yeah,” Oliver says softly, taking the frame gently from her hands to hand to the cashier. “Yeah, she’ll love it.”

 

So, all in all, not a wasted trip. Actually, Felicity has found herself pretty excited to hand the gifts out the next morning. When they get back to the house, the cold from outside has settled into her bones and she’s nearly shivering as they walk through the door.

 

“I’ll take these upstairs,” Oliver offers, taking the shopping bags from her. “We can get them wrapped later.”

 

She nods, pulling her coat off and hanging it up in the closet. She toes out of her boots, leaving them next to where Thea’s still sit from that morning. Snow has clumped up in the treads on the bottoms and quickly begins to fall in chunks onto the carpet, melted by the warmth of the house.

 

She doesn’t notice the way Oliver is watching her until she looks up, bent over to pull her socks up from where the boots have tugged them down. He’s frowning at her and she matches it with one of her own.

 

“What?” She asks, straightening up and self consciously touching her face and hair, sure she must have some snow stuck somewhere.

 

“You’re shivering,” he comments and she wraps her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking coursing through her body. He sets the bags down and reaches for her, rubbing his hands up and down her biceps. His hands are just as cold as she is, so it’s a nice gesture but ultimately useless.

 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, waving off his concern. “I’ll just have to break out some mittens next time we go out.”

 

He nods, though he still seems concerned. It’s sweet, but she’s not suffering from frostbite, they’d just spent so long walking around and it got dark quickly which made it even colder. He picks the bags back up and heads down the hallway towards the staircase. Felicity follows after him, turning in the opposite direction at the sound of shuffling in the kitchen.

 

She doesn’t know why she expects it to be Thea, but startles a little when she turns into the room and finds Moira standing in front of the stove instead. She nearly spins around to leave again, but the older woman turns and spots her.

 

“Oh, Felicity,” she greets. “How was town?”

 

“It was nice,” she says, creeping further into the room. “Cute.”

 

Moira hums in agreement and turns back to the stove. Felicity leans to one side, trying to catch a peak of what the Queen matriarch may be making. She doesn’t have to wonder for long as Moira clicks off the burner on the stove and moves a tea kettle onto a tray on the counter next to her.

 

“Well, you’ve come back at the perfect time,” she tells Felicity who straightens at the attention. “Walter should be home soon and I’ve got things ready for hot chocolate. Or I could heat some water for tea, if you prefer.”

 

“Hot chocolate would be great,” Felicity says easily, but frowns at the reminder that Walter has been gone all day. Thea had mentioned he was taking Raisa to the train station. She directs her questions to Moira, “How far is the train station? Thea mentioned Walter had left sometime this morning.”

 

“Yes, well, it is a bit of a drive to the station,” she nods, shifting things around on the tray before lifting it and turning back to Felicity. “He also needed to wait for a surprise to arrive before he could head back.”

 

Felicity frowns and starts to ask what surprise he’d needed to wait for, but Moira doesn’t give her a chance. Instead, she moves past her with the tray in hand, calling back once she reaches the doorway,

 

“Would you mind grabbing the marshmallows from the cupboard?”

 

The woman disappears around the corner, heading down the hallway in the direction of the sitting room. Felicity stares after her in confusion for a moment before doing as asked. It takes her a moment to locate the bag of mini marshmallows in the many cupboards, but eventually she snags it and follows after Moira down the hall.

 

Oliver comes down the stairs as she passes by them, having left his coat and boots upstairs along with the presents. She halts, placing her hand on his arm to grab his attention.

 

“Hey, do you know what surprise your mom might have planned that Walter would have had to go and pick up?” She asks, keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard. Oliver frowns down at her, shaking his head.

 

“No,” he answers, looking just as troubled by the news. 

 

He places his hand on her back and guides her down the hallway to the sitting room. Moira has placed the tray down on a table between the plush, cream colored couches and Felicity moves to set the marshmallows down with it. Moira holds a mug out to her, already steaming from the hot drink within, and Felicity takes it from her, happy to let the warmth from it seep into the cold skin of her hands.

 

“You’re trailing, bro,” Thea comments, coming into the room from the archway to the dining room and pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate. Oliver frowns at her as she scoops a handful of marshmallows from the bag and drops them into the mug.

 

“Please tell me you weren’t in there working on that stupid house the entire time we were gone,” he says dryly, tilting his head at her. Felicity raises an eyebrow at him. He didn’t think it was so dumb when he was yelling at her for eating all of the pretzels before he could finish his hand crafted terrace.

 

“Get on my level,” is all Thea gives as a response before turning and heading back to the dining room. Oliver shifts next to Felicity and she laughs at his restraint, pushing him lightly in the direction of the room.

 

“Go,” she instructs. He doesn’t need to be told twice, chasing after his sister so he can see how far behind he’s trailed. Moira is laughing quietly at her children’s antics as well and Felicity takes the opportunity to settle into the couch opposite her.

 

“They really love those gingerbread houses,” she comments, glancing in the direction of the dining room. She can already hear the sounds of the trash talk amping up again. Moira looks fondly in the direction her children had gone as she stirs the liquid within her own mug with a small, silver spoon.

 

“It’s something Robert used to do with them,” she explains and Felicity’s chest tightens a little at the mention. Neither Oliver nor Thea had brought Robert up to her and it’s easy to forget that they’d lost their father. She’s familiar with the feeling, if in a different way. Moira straightens a bit, continuing, “Old habits and all that.”

 

Felicity nods, unsure how else to respond to the words. Moira’s tone had softened and turned introspective, so she’s not even sure they’re meant for her anyway. She feels like an intruder suddenly. Forcing her way through Oliver’s home and family and past, receiving so much information while giving none in return. Before this, how much had they really known about each other?

 

When she leaves in a week, she’ll be intimately familiar with his morning routine of an early run, the way he turns childish and playful around his sister, how heavily his mother must still feel the loss of her husband. This is not what she’d bargained for.

 

The room goes suddenly too warm, contrasting with how cold she’d been just a few moments earlier when she and Oliver had returned to the house. Her chest is tightening up and the mug of chocolatey liquid shakes just a bit in her hands. The anxiety from yesterday is returning in full force, reminding her that this isn’t her place to be.

 

“That must be Walter,” Moira says, startling Felicity out of her internal downward spiral. She hadn’t heard the door open, but she hears it when it shuts. Moira’s face shows a touch of sly excitement as she says, “Which means your surprise has arrived.”

 

She stands from the couch, setting her mug down on the tray, and strays from the sitting room. It takes Felicity a moment to register her words and she pushes herself out of the couch in a rush.

 

“My surprise?” She squeaks out, but Moira is already gone, down the hall to greet her husband. She wants to follow the woman down the hallway to try to understand exactly what is happening, but she feels glued to the floor. She doesn’t think she could move if she tried.

 

“Right this way,” she hears Walter say from the hallway, which is extra concerning because he wouldn’t be guiding an inanimate object towards the sitting room. 

 

“Felicity!” A high pitched voice squeals as its owner rounds the doorway into the sitting room. Her stomach drops, does a kickflip, returns to its rightful position, and drops again. “There’s my beautiful, brilliant girl!”

 

“Mom?” Felicity laughs nervously as her mother crosses the room surprisingly quickly in her towering heels and wraps her in a tight hug. She tilts them from side to side, bouncing a bit on her toes, while Felicity attempts to form coherent thoughts.

 

Her mother is here. Donna Smoak is standing in the Queen’s living room in front of the world’s largest Christmas tree with her wrapped in a hug. Oh, God. That means she’d been what Walter was picking up. Which means he’d spent an extended period of time in the car with her. Oh, God!

 

Oliver and Thea come from the dining room to see what the commotion is because her mother is still squeezing her and squealing and talking to her, not that Felicity has managed to make out a single word due to the total and complete dread settling over her. Finally, she forces herself out of the hug, holding her mother steady by the arms.

 

“Mom,” she says and Donna stops, brushing a curl stuck to her lip gloss out of her face. Felicity ignores the quiet way Oliver echoes ‘mom?’ She continues, addressing her mother, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well, honey, you didn’t tell me you were even seeing someone, let alone had gotten engaged,” Donna says, glancing back towards Walter and Moira with a laugh, “The way she can keep a secret. She gets that from her father. I can’t keep secrets to save my-”

 

“Mom,” Felicity says, squeezing her arms a little to get her back on topic. “Mom!”

 

“Well, anyway, I didn’t know about any of this until Mrs. Queen here called me,” she continues, looking back to Felicity and laughing like it’s all just a funny anecdote. And not, you know, slowly killing Felicity out of sheer embarrassment. Donna goes on, “They invited me out here for Christmas, isn’t that just so sweet? I figured it’d be a nice little surprise for you and I could meet this lovely fiancé of yours.”

 

With that, she shakes off Felicity’s hold and turns instead to where Thea and Oliver are watching the exchange. She steps forward and Oliver meets her, holding out a hand.

 

“Mrs. Smoak,” he greets, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m glad you could make it.”

 

“Oh, please, we’re almost family, hun,” Donna says, ignoring his outstretched hand and pulling him into a tight hug. Oliver shoots a surprised look at Felicity, but schools his features before her mother pulls away. “And it’s Donna.”

 

“Mom,” Felicity says again, already reaching to pull her mother away before she can attempt to squeeze the life out of any of the other Queens. “Mom, why don’t we go find a room to put your things in?”

 

“I can help with that,” Oliver offers and Felicity wishes she had some discreet way of waving him off. She’d prefer a moment alone with her mother before either of them says something that makes things so, so much worse. Instead, her mother is already turning back to Oliver with a giant grin.

 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” she comments and spins on her heel to leave the room again. Felicity still can’t move her feet. Oliver’s hand lands warm and encouraging on her back, urging her to follow after her mom. Her socked feet slide against the hardwood before she manages to make her leaden legs move.

 

“We’ll be right back,” Oliver offers quietly to his mom and Walter as they pass, but there’s an edge to his voice that Felicity reads as disapproval.

 

Donna is waiting for them in the foyer where her suitcase and purse have been left. Felicity decides not to analyze how similar the wheeled bag looks to her own as Oliver reaches to take the handle from Donna’s grasp, sliding it down into its track and lifting the bag easily by the strap at the top.

 

“Oh, strong,” Donna laughs, shooting Felicity a wink. Maybe she died. Yeah, she must have slipped on a patch of black ice while she was in town and hit her head and now she’s died and gone to hell. Not that she believes in hell but, well, if that’s where she is then…

 

She follows almost mechanically as Oliver leads her mother up the stairs and down the halls, trailing behind her eager mother as she chatters about how beautiful the house is and how lovely his stepfather had been on the drive up. Okay, so maybe she isn’t dead yet, but there’s still hope, right?

 

“Here we go,” Oliver says, stopping in front of a door and pushing it open. It’s still a bit down the hall from their own room and Felicity is grateful for it. She would so not put it past her mother to make uncomfortable inquiries about the noise - or lack thereof - coming from their room over breakfast.

 

Donna moves past Oliver into the room and he sets her suitcase down just inside the door. Felicity darts passed him into the room after her mother, ignoring his bewildered look at her sudden quick movements.

 

“Just give us a second,” she says, already placing a hand on his chest to push him back into the hallway as she closes the door on him. He opens his mouth to say something, but she doesn’t give him a chance. Instead, the door clicks closed and she spins around to address her mom, “Mom, what are you doing here?”

 

Donna turns from where she’d been surveying the large room to frown at her. After a moment of studying her face, she huffs and settles gently onto the edge of the bed.

 

“Honey, we’ve been over that,” she reminds Felicity who probably looks similar to a fish at the moment. “Seriously, you need to calm down because you know how you can get when you go and get yourself all worked up.”

 

“I am not worked up!” Felicity argues, though the shrillness of her voice probably does not sell her point. She takes a deep breath, counting to three in her head before pressing on, “Let me just try to understand what’s happening, okay? Moira Queen called you up and casually mentioned that I was engaged to her son?”

 

Donna nods, adjusting her long blonde curls over her shoulders. They cling to the burgundy sweater dress she’s wearing, creating a static effect. Luckily, Felicity knows her mother well enough to know the hairspray holding the look together isn’t going to bow to a little static electricity.

 

“And your response to this, rather than to call me, was to agree to spend a week in the middle of nowhere with them?” Felicity continues, staring at her mom who just seems all too calm for the situation they have found themselves in.

 

“Yes,” Donna says with a weary sigh. She tacks on, passionately, “For the holidays!” 

 

“Mom, we don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Felicity reminds her, frustration over the situation mounting.

 

“Honey, if you’re going to marry a hot, rich Christian, we can damn well learn to compromise,” she insists. 

 

When Felicity only stares at her in horror for a moment, she pushes off of the bed, coming over to reach up and adjust Felicity’s curls this time. She starts, “Felicity, I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t tell me about you and Oliver, if you were embarrassed or-”

 

“It’s not that,” Felicity assures her, her hands coming up to wrap gently around her mother’s forearms.

 

They’d dealt with Felicity’s misplaced anger and resentment towards her mother years ago. They are, in most ways, very different people, but ultimately Donna has always done everything she could try and give Felicity her best opportunities. With how she’s ended up, she figures her mom must have done something right.

 

“Then why were you two keeping it such a secret?” Donna frowns.

 

“We weren’t keeping it a secret,” she argues. “We just hadn’t really made any sort of formal announcement.”

 

Her mom hums in something like disbelief, but doesn’t push the issue. Even if their relationship has been better, Felicity hasn’t always been forthcoming with information about her relationships. Mostly because none of them had really been anything to write home about in the last few years. As much as she’s sure her mother would love it, she’s not going to call after every first date that ultimately won’t lead to a second anyway.

 

“Why don’t you freshen up before dinner, okay?” She suggests, pulling away from Donna and gesturing towards the private bathroom. She does not miss the way her mother’s eyes light up. “I’m gonna go talk to Oliver and we’ll all head down together.”

 

Her mom does as suggested, checking out the bathroom with interest. If it’s anything like the bathroom in her and Oliver’s room, her mother will be swooning over the jacuzzi tub for the rest of the week. Felicity slips out of the room and nearly knocks into Oliver still waiting outside the room.

 

“My mom is here,” she says unnecessarily, panic raising her pitch.

 

“She sure is,” he sighs, pressing his fingers to the spot just above the bridge of his nose. “It’ll be fine. Maybe we could tell her the truth and then we’d have someone else on our side.”

 

“Are you crazy?” She asks.

 

Oliver blinks at her once, twice. “What?”

 

“Oliver, if we tell my mother that this is all fake, we may as well just send out a press release,” she says, staring wide eyed at him for the suggestion. “The woman cannot keep a secret.”

 

“Fine, then we’ll just carry on as normal,” he says, raising his hands up in a semblance of a calming gesture. It does not work. “What’s one more person?”

 

Felicity frowns at that because Donna Smoak may be one person physically, but she’s got enough personality to fill at least three more people. So, her already very low belief in the success of this ruse is now bottoming out. Before she can tell him any of this, which is probably for the best because one of them has to believe in this stupid, stupid plan, the bedroom door opens again and her mom enters the hallway.

 

“So,” Donna says, clapping her hands together and grinning at Oliver. “When’s dinner?”

 

\---

 

Dinner is lovely, but Felicity manages to eat even less of it than the night before. Which means all she’s eaten since the waffles that morning is a handful of peppermints and a half a bowl of pretzel sticks. She does, at one point, fake a work emergency on her phone as an excuse to sneak upstairs and take a Xanax. Donna doesn’t miss the opportunity to make a pointed comment about how she’s always working.

 

Afterwards, they all move back to the sitting room where they gather on the plush couches with mugs of coffee and talk. Moira and Walter show a genuine interest in getting to know her mom, which is good because Donna is always eager to talk about herself or Felicity and it gives Felicity a chance to avoid the attention. Thea sits on the arm of the couch next to Moira and asks about living in Vegas with curiosity.

 

While his family focuses their attentions on Donna, Oliver pulls Felicity against him, adjusting them on the couch so she’s curled into his side. She untucks her legs from beneath her to drape them over his lap as she listens to her mother’s stories.

 

Actually, it’s kind of enjoyable. She doesn’t get to spend much time with her mom and she hadn’t always given her stories the kind of attention they’d warranted. Donna holds wealths of knowledge in ways Felicity doesn’t, ways that come from struggling and hard work to ensure that Felicity never had to struggle that much and only worked hard because she wanted to.

 

“Now, Felicity, she couldn’t have cared less about the lights in the city when she was a kid,” Donna says and Felicity tenses at the sound of her own name. Donna’s stories? Good. Donna’s stories about Felicity? Bad. Her mom continues, “No, my baby girl was always looking up. All she cared about were the stars.”

 

“I had other interests,” Felicity grumbles.

 

“Well, sure, your computers,” Donna concedes, “But you should have seen the fit she threw when I told her she couldn’t go to space camp. She locked herself in her room for two days.”

 

Donna laughs at the story, the Queens sharing in her mirth at Felicity’s expense. She does not miss the way Oliver’s chest moves with his own chuckling at the tale. She frowns, wishing to disappear into the sofa behind her.

 

“I hope you’re willing to do this whole engagement thing with Curtis Holt,” she tells Oliver, lowering her voice to a near whisper as she sinks down into the couch, “Because before this week ends I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

 

He squeezes her knee gently.

 

“Anyway, I always knew my baby girl was meant for greatness,” Donna concludes, surprising Felicity. She looks over at her mother and Donna reaches forward, brushing Felicity’s hair behind her ear.

 

“And that is probably the perfect note to end this little trip down memory lane on,” she says, swinging her legs off of Oliver’s lap. Her socks hit the hardwood below and she pushes off of the couch. She looks at her mother, continuing pointedly, “Mom, you must be tired from the trip.”

 

Donna raises an eyebrow at her, taking the hint. She sighs, lifting her coffee mug and swirling it around to show Felicity that there’s still a third of the mug left. Felicity’s shoulders slump, annoyance at her mother returning despite her nice words from a moment ago.

 

“If you’re tired, sweetie, by all means go to bed,” Donna says. “But, I’m going to finish my coffee.”

 

Oliver follows Felicity up off of the couch, his arm coming around her as he redirects her away from her mother to face his family instead. She puts on the best tired smile she can manage, wrapping her arm around his back. The tired part isn’t hard to play. The smile takes a moment.

 

“It’s been an exciting day for everyone,” he says, squeezing her arm as he addresses his own mother. “I think we’re both gonna call it a night.”

 

Felicity does not like the idea of her mother staying down here with his family while they head upstairs for the night. But, it’s better than her sitting here feeling tense and awkward for any longer. Oliver must be able to tell she’s becoming irritated, so the excuse of tiredness is probably the best she’s going to get.

 

“Of course,” Moira nods. She straightens a little where she’s cuddled against Walter, seeming to address the whole room with just a subtle shift,  “It’ll be an early morning tomorrow anyway. We’ll do gifts in the morning and then we’ll need to begin preparing for our other guests.”

 

Felicity holds back a groan at the reminder of the other guests. Oliver still hasn’t given her any information on the friends that will be joining them for the days leading up to New Year’s Eve. Her fingers tighten against his side.

 

He takes the cue, offering a goodnight to the family gathered in the room. Felicity does the same before he steers her away towards the hallway. They’re so nearly home free and Felicity is thinking fondly of those plush emerald sheets when they’re stopped again.

 

“Oh, hey, Ollie,” Thea calls, making them both turn back to his sister who is smirking at them. She gestures, pointing up towards the ceiling and Felicity frowns. Oliver follows the direction, glancing upwards, and she feels him go tense next to her.

 

“Thea,” he says tiredly.

 

“It’s tradition,” she shrugs and Felicity finally looks up as well, her stomach sinking at the green leaves held together with a red ribbon and dangling from the doorway above them. Oliver looks to his mother for help, but she only shrugs, looking amused by the situation as well.

 

“She’s right,” is all Moira offers as Donna coos from her side of the room, noticing the mistletoe for herself. No more Hallmark movies for her mother.

 

Oliver sighs, his arm dropping from around Felicity as he turns to face her. She goes rigid, unsure of what he plans to do as he leans towards her. Before she can react, he leaves a quick kiss on the apple of her cheek, surprising her. Thea groans from behind them and Felicity just hopes she hasn’t gone entirely red.

 

“Oh please,” the younger girl cries. “You’re engaged, not going to your first middle school dance. Kiss her like you mean it.”

 

“You’re ridiculous, Thea,” Oliver says, leveling his sister with a dark look.

 

“Don’t blame me,” she smirks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Blame the mistletoe.”

 

Oliver turns back to face Felicity fully, startling her by taking her face in both his hands. He gives her an encouraging look before he kisses her, head tilted just so as his mouth covers hers. Her hands come up on instinct, fingers curling around his forearms. The rough scrape of his short beard contrasts the soft press of his lips.

 

When he pulls away, Felicity swears to God she sees actual sparks. Donna squeals and Felicity turns her head to glance at her, realizing that it was actually the flash of her mother’s camera phone she’d been seeing. God, that’s embarrassing. 

 

She avoids Oliver’s gaze, licking her lips and looking away from the family in the sitting room. She tries to give her best “bashful due to the PDA” laugh, but mostly she just wants to run upstairs and lock herself in the bathroom for a little while.

 

She really could have gone without knowing what kissing Oliver Queen felt like.

 

“Okay, everyone good?” Oliver asks, addressing the room at large rather than Felicity. “Great. Goodnight.”

 

His arm comes around her again and she calls out a quiet ‘goodnight’ as he guides her down the hallway. She can hear the chatter picking up again as they move away from the room and figures it’s probably safe to say no one found the exchange strange.

 

Upstairs, she locks herself in the bathroom with the excuse of changing. A kiss shouldn’t have her losing her mind when she’s pretending to be engaged to the guy, but it feels like a shift in this whole thing. She needs to get her shit together. Pulling the familiar blue pajamas back on makes her feel a little better, a little more in control.

 

When she comes out of the bathroom, Oliver has changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. He’s sitting on the floor behind the couch, pulling the Christmas presents she’d bought earlier from their bags. She settles on the floor across from him, sitting cross legged as he hands her the book she’d picked out for Walter and a roll of wrapping paper.

 

It’s bright blue with snowflakes similar to the ones on her pajama pants. Not overtly Christmas themed, which she appreciates.

 

“If you want to wrap this stuff, I can print the photo off for my mom in the office,” he offers and she nods, grateful mostly because she has no idea where to even go about finding a printer in this giant house.

 

“Yeah, I’ll send the picture to you,” she says, already standing to retrieve her phone from where she’d tossed it onto the bed. Oliver stands as well, grabbing his phone off the nightstand and heading out of the room.

 

Felicity pulls up the photos and flips through them, not having realized how many she’d actually taken that afternoon. It takes her a while to narrow it down, but finally she settles on one where Oliver is standing, bent over the gingerbread house with a startling amount of concentration. On the other side of the frame, Thea is tossing M&Ms at him and laughing.

 

She sends the photo off to Oliver and checks her email before sitting down to start wrapping Walter’s book. Thea’s scarf gets stuffed into a white gift bag covered with sparkly fluff to give the appearance of snow and Felicity carefully places pieces of red tissue paper on top of it.

 

“My mom is gonna love this,” he tells her coming back into the room with the printed photo. 

 

It’s glossy and cut to the perfect size. Somehow knowing that the Queens have a printer specifically for printing photos does not surprise her. She takes it from him, turning the frame over carefully and popping the velvet backing out. Once she feels content that the photo fits the frame well enough, she replaces it and puts it into its own gift bag.

 

“She mentioned you used to build the gingerbread houses with your dad,” she says, picking out pieces of white tissue paper to bury the frame beneath.

 

“Yeah,” Oliver nods, smiling a little at the memory. His eyes track the movement of her hands as he thinks about his father. “He was great at it. It probably came from years of yelling at architects and contractors.”

 

She laughs at the joke, setting the bag next to Thea’s once she’s happy with the presentation of it. Oliver peels a gift tag off of the sheet of them he had provided, sticking it to the side of the bag. Felicity uses a sharpie to carefully write Moira’s name across it. They do the same for each gift, Oliver picking out a gift tag that matches the color scheme and Felicity writing each of his family member’s names on it.

 

“Sorry she ambushed you with the surprise of your mom today,” he frowns once they’ve finished, resting back on the palms of his hands. “She’s trying to be this family person, but she doesn’t always think things like that through.”

 

“It’s fine,” Felicity assures him, waving off the concern. “It’s actually kind of nice to see my mom. I don’t have a lot of time to visit these days.”

 

Maybe it’s the benzo setting in, but she thinks they may actually be able to pull this whole thing off even with her mom here. They’ve gotten through the hardest parts - making up a romantic tale of falling in love and having to kiss in front of both of their families.

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he agrees. “My family gets on me for working too much all the time.”

 

“Well, it’s not like you have a whole company to run or anything,” she comments teasingly, leaning towards him a bit. He laughs softly, nodding at her.

 

“They don’t always understand,” he says. “I’m trying to keep the company alive, to preserve my father’s legacy, everything he worked for. Thea was pretty young when he died, she doesn’t remember how much time he spent at the company. But I’d expect my mom and Walter to understand that.”

 

Felicity frowns at him for a moment, considering his words. Helix had been her dream, something she’d put sweat and tears and countless long nights into making a reality. Her mother had never had any grand expectations for her besides happiness and security - and marriage and babies which, yeah, she’s come up short but she’s fine with that at the moment.

 

Oliver had said something similar when he’d asked her to come home with him for the holidays to keep his parents from knowing the truth about the company. He’d said he didn’t want his mom to know how close he was to losing his father’s legacy.

 

“You know, you talk about his legacy a lot,” she points out, hoping she doesn’t sound confrontational. “Maybe you should start thinking about your own. I don’t think he’d begrudge you that.”

 

Oliver goes quiet for a minute and Felicity reaches forward, playing self consciously with the ribbon she’d tied around Walter’s gift. She tightens it, adjusts it slightly, tightens it again. Oliver watches the movements, but doesn’t say anything. Finally, once she’s given up on perfecting the bow, he reaches over and gathers the three small gifts up.

 

“I’ll take these downstairs,” he says. “You should probably get some sleep.”

 

Felicity nods, watching as he pushes up off of the floor and heads out of the room. She isn’t sure if she’s said something wrong or perhaps something too close to being right, but she wishes she could take it back. She turns the light off and settles into the bed, curling the blankets around her. Her eyelids grow heavy as she becomes warm and comfortable in the bed.

 

“Are you still awake?” Oliver calls quietly into the darkness when he returns. Felicity hums in response, not bothering to form real words. He must take it as the affirmative, though, because he offers her a quiet, “Goodnight, Felicity.”

 

“Goodnight, Oliver,” she whispers back after a moment and it’s the last thing she remembers before sleep overtakes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan for this is to be 4 parts posted each Friday until Christmas -- but plans often go awry and it could end up being 5 parts. I don't know we'll see.
> 
> In the meantime, I post an outfit preview on Mondays and a dialogue tease on Wednesdays on twitter, so if you're interested in that; [@fellicityqueen](https://twitter.com/fellicityqueen)


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes and goes, bringing with it more guests of the Queens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Outfits for the dinner!](https://twitter.com/fellicityqueen/status/940249650623320064)

Felicity wakes up to the sound of someone saying her name softly to her left. She pinches her eyes shut, trying to block out the voice and get five more minutes of sleep. Oliver must realize what she’s doing, because he says her name again with a little more force behind it, drawing out the syllables of it in his low voice.

 

She gives in, opening her eyes to find him down on one knee next to the bed, tilting his head at her in amusement. She blinks at him a few times and he waits for her.

 

“You look like you’re proposing,” she comments because she’s really only half awake and no one has a working filter when they’re only half awake. It doesn’t help that Felicity doesn’t really have a working filter when she’s fully awake.

 

“It’s a little late for that,” he reminds her, lips quirking in amusement. She hums, rolling onto her back and covering her eyes with her forearm, momentarily blinded from the sun coming through the windows behind him. She can hear the shift of him standing up as he continues, “Rise and shine. It’s Christmas which means presents and enough cinnamon rolls to feed an army.”

 

Her stomach admittedly grumbles at the thought.

 

“Come on,” Oliver laughs, dragging his hand over her arm and taking hold of her wrist to tug gently. She gives in, tossing the plush duvet off of her and letting him pull her from the bed. Her eyes are still closed against the bright morning light and he has to steady her once her feet reach the floor.

 

“Mornings are so dumb,” she sighs finally blinking against the light and letting her vision adjust. Oliver turns them so that he isn’t completely backlit by the sun reflecting off the snow outside and it makes it easier to focus on him.

 

“You’ll feel better after we get some food in you,” he promises, leading her towards the door to the bedroom. She lets him lead her, brain fuzzy from the warmth of sleep but slowly making its way back to full consciousness.

 

Which is when it strikes her that he’s trying to lead her downstairs to face his entire family and her mother in her full I-woke-up-like-this glory. She squeaks, pulling away from him and, she’s sure, startling him. Without stopping to explain, she darts away from him and towards the bathroom instead.

 

“What just happened?” He asks and she glances back through the door of the bathroom to see he’s still standing bewildered near the bedroom door.

 

“What happened is that you nearly had me going downstairs in front of both of our families looking like a troll doll,” she explains pointedly, using the mirror over the sink to pat her hair down into a semblance of control. She pauses. “Wow, remember troll dolls?”

 

“Felicity, everyone is gonna be in their pajamas,” he tells her, ignoring her nostalgia trip and coming up behind her in the bathroom. She doesn’t say it, but she highly doubts Donna Smoak is just going to be dressed in her pajamas either. “No one is going to care that your hair is a little messy.”

 

“A little messy,” she grumbles sarcastically. She gives up on patting the mess of her hair down and instead tugs it upwards into a messy bun at the top of her head. Oliver stands behind her, watching her in the mirror and letting out an impatient sigh.

 

She finishes her hair, content with the slightly messy but not, like, trying too hard to be messy bun she’s created. Which, she realizes, means she’s definitely trying too hard. Instead she pats the puffiness underneath her eyes with the pads of her fingers, trying to make the swelling from sleep go down. Oliver bends towards her a bit, his chin dangerously close to her bare shoulder.

 

“If I say you look amazing,” he starts quietly, next to her ear, and she hopes he doesn’t notices the way she freezes, “Can we please go get some breakfast?”

 

“Do you have a sweatshirt or something I can borrow?” She asks instead of answering him, spinning around so quickly he has to rock backwards to avoid a collision. He nods, clearly startled by her change in demeanor, and heads out of the bathroom. Felicity takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting to ten in her head.

 

When she steps back into the bedroom, Oliver is holding out a green zip up hoodie towards her. She takes it, pulling it over her shoulders to hide the thin straps of her tank top. He grabs her glasses off of the nightstand where she’d left them and holds them out. Once she has the hoodie on and zipped to just below her breastbone, he surprises her by unfolding the arms of the glasses and sliding them gently onto her face for her.

 

“Thanks,” she murmurs before clearing her throat and affecting a more upbeat tone. “So, I was promised cinnamon rolls.”

 

“Lead the way,” Oliver says, sweeping his arm out towards the bedroom door.

 

She does, navigating the house that is quickly becoming familiar to her as she leads them down the hallway to the staircase. She can already hear the sounds of earlier risers than herself when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. There’s conversation coming from both ends of the hallway and she becomes unsure which way she’s meant to go. Oliver’s gentle hand on her back guides her in the direction of the sitting room.

 

“How can you be both the first to go to bed and the last to wake up?” Thea asks them as they enter the room. Felicity takes careful steps to avoid being stopped under the green plant still hanging from the doorway.

 

“I like sleep,” she shrugs, knowing Thea doesn’t mean it in a rude way. She’s sitting cross legged in a pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweater on the floor in front of the tree. It makes her glad Oliver had stopped her from getting fully dressed as she settles on the floor next to Thea.

 

“Thea was telling me we’re in for quite the treat this morning,” Donna says from her seat on one of the couches. She’s also in her pajamas, but her hair is in an immaculate ponytail and Felicity really doubts that’s last night’s makeup on her face.

 

“Yeah, Oliver mentioned something about an army’s worth of cinnamon rolls,” she responds, looking to Thea for confirmation. The younger girl laughs but nods in agreement with the statement.

 

Felicity settles back against the couch she’s sitting in front of, pulling the borrowed sweatshirt tighter around herself, content to observe as Thea picks through the presents beneath the tree, creating piles for each person, and her mother sets her sights on Oliver, asking him a million questions.

 

He fields them like a pro, used to the considerable attention and nonstop questions from years of public relations training, press conferences, and interviews. He glances around at one point, catching her watching the exchange and offers her a gentle smile that makes her chest feel tight even as she returns it.

 

Moira and Walter come sweeping into the room with trays of cinnamon rolls, icing melting down the sides of them and glazing the doughy treats. They set them down on the table between the couches along with a stack of small plates and Felicity realizes that neither of the Queen siblings had been exaggerating.

 

“Presents while we eat,” Thea declares, taking on a youthful exuberance as she plays Santa for the room, handing out a gift to each person.

 

Felicity was right with her first assessment of the tree and many of the gifts underneath it seem to be for show. The Queens don’t appear to get each other many gifts, but rather thoughtful ones. Thea receives a purse that makes her squeal and practically throw herself at her parents in glee. Oliver receives a large package of high end athletic socks which makes Felicity frown at him in confusion, but he seems genuinely pleased with the gift.

 

Moira pulls the silver frame Felicity had picked out from its bag and immediately places it in the middle of the table, turned so it may be the first thing a person sees upon coming through the doorway. The gesture makes her feel light and giddy, even as Thea shoves a medium sized gift bag at her with an instructive “you’re turn.”

 

“I thought they might match the scarf you were wearing when you got here,” Moira explains as Felicity pulls a deep purple knitted beanie and matching gloves from within the sparkly dark green bag. She bites down on her lip, her chest going tight for an entirely different reason. Moira continues, “If they aren’t right, just let me know and we’ll go pick out something different.”

 

“No, they’re perfect,” she says quietly, holding the hat tenderly in her fingers. The weaving is immaculate and the fibers used are soft against the skin of her hands. 

 

“I had some input,” Thea tacks on, waiting until after she knows Felicity likes the items. Moira offers her an amused look. Donna is beside Felicity on the floor suddenly, taking the hat from her.

 

“Here, honey,” she says and Felicity knows she’s trying to be helpful, show the Queen’s their gratitude, but it’s quickly becoming too much for Felicity. Her mom releases the carefully crafted bun from the back of her head and puts the beanie on for her, adjusting it so her messy curls look, Felicity is sure, perfect. Once she’s pleased with her work, her mother adds, “I always told you purple was your color.”

 

Donna doesn’t receive any gifts, but in Felicity’s defense, she hadn’t known her mother was coming and she’d already sent her Hanukkah gifts in the weeks prior. 

 

Her mom returns to her seat on the couch, snagging a cinnamon roll on the way. Everyone is finished with gifts, content with the few, but thoughtful, things they’ve received. Walter is thumbing through the copy of Macbeth she’d bought him while Moira examines the bracelet Thea and Oliver had had custom made for her and Thea pulls the paper from within her new purse.

 

Oliver settles onto the floor next to her, startling her as she continues to stroke her fingers absently over the soft new gloves. She looks up at him, feeling a million things at once and hoping he can’t see any of them on her face. If he does, he doesn’t comment.

 

Instead, he reaches behind him for the tree and pulls a small, gold papered rectangle from beneath it with a quiet, “One more.”

 

Felicity freezes as he holds it out to her, her eyes going wide at the surprise gesture. He shakes it just slightly, encouraging her to take it from him with a gentle nod. She does, finally, dropping the gloves to her lap to take the box carefully in her hands.

 

“I didn’t think we were…” she says, examining the box, unsure if she really should open it just yet. Despite Oliver’s quiet voice, they’ve captured the interest of the room and she’s reminded that this is just a show. An elaborate play and Oliver has just handed her their latest prop.

 

Her left hand suddenly feels heavier than the rest of her.

 

“I know we agreed not to,” he lies, because they hadn’t even had the conversation, “but I saw it while we were out and couldn’t help myself.”

 

She finally gives herself permission to open the box. The golden paper feels smooth and delicate, so she carefully slides her nail between the edges and splits the tape holding it all together until it falls away in one, untouched piece. Within, a thin silver chain sits in black velvet, a silver bar connects the ends of the chain and it takes her a second to realize it’s an arrow, the pointed tip connecting to one end of the chain and the feathered end connecting to the other.

 

It looks expensive. It looks meaningful. It’s something he shouldn’t be giving to her and yet, here they find themselves, sitting in front of their families as he gingerly removes the chain from its box and gestures for her to turn away from him. She complies and he lifts the necklace over her head, clasping it at the back of her neck.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, touching the cold, thin line of the arrow where it lands on her collarbone. Oliver is smiling at her when she turns back to him.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” he offers quietly. Felicity remembers suddenly what he’d said about doing what comes natural. She places her hand on his jaw, leaning in to leave a short, gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

 

“Thank you,” she says as she pulls away, remembering the family surrounding them. She glances around but Thea is now talking excitedly about the lining of her new bag with Moira while Walter describes the recipe for the cinnamon rolls to her mom. She wonders if any of them were even watching their little show to begin with.

 

“Merry Christmas, Felicity,” Oliver says, pulling her attentions back to him. She blinks at him, her brain suddenly working sluggishly to process the conversation. Her hand still plays idly with the necklace at her throat.

 

“Merry Christmas,” she echoes finally.

 

\---

 

The holiday itself passes with only mild excitement after the gift giving. As a whole, they mostly lounge in the less formal living room across the hall from the kitchen which connects to the dining room they’d eaten dinner in that first night. Felicity is actually becoming glad for the tour she was given because the layout of the house is beginning to seem impossible.

 

A large TV plays old, black and white movies - some Christmas themed and others not - that Oliver and Thea bicker over before, inevitably, Oliver gives into the whims of his younger sister. Walter prepares food. Although, for the most part, it’s finishing preparations for a Christmas meal that Raisa had left mostly finished for them.

 

Felicity’s glad for the lack of grandeur, knowing anything more formal would lead her to feel overwhelmed. It’s still a bit much at some moments. Like when Oliver tugs gently on her hand, encouraging her to lay back against him on their shared couch while Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell argue on screen.

 

Mostly, she’s just happy to survive the holiday without any breakdowns or the need to self medicate. She even manages to have two glasses of wine with dinner.

 

It isn’t until later in the night, once she’s managed to scarf down an almost embarrassing amount of turkey and Christmas cookies, that she remembers that the Queens’ other guests are set to begin arriving the next day. Which is how she ropes Oliver into locking themselves in their room under the ruse of needing some peace and quiet - which she realized eventually meant his whole family now thinks they’re upstairs having sex.

 

Instead, the only thing spread out across the bed are the unused notecards she’d kept stashed in her purse. Oliver had given her small tidbits of information about each of the friends who would be staying until the new year and she’d hastily scribbled a brightly colored notecard for each of them.

 

“Okay, can we go over it again?” She asks, pacing back and forth behind the couch. The emerald bed covering is speckled with highlighter bright notecards.

 

“You must have been insufferable in school,” he comments, running a hand over his face. She knows he’s growing frustrated with her, but this is important. Too important to approach with a lazy attitude or for her to try and wing it.

 

How could Oliver be engaged to someone but never have told her anything about his friends or family? It’d be suspicious.

 

“Excuse you, I graduated early from MIT with honors and two degrees,” she says, glaring at him even as he isn’t looking at her. “Meanwhile, you got a D in high school algebra.” He lowers his hand from his face to give her a confused look which she waves off, explaining, “If it’s online, I can find it.”

 

He must brush it off relatively easily - she is the CEO of a multibillion dollar tech company - because after a moment of silence he prompts, “The first people to get here, from sheer proximity alone, will most likely be John and his family.”

 

“Right, right,” she nods jerkily, the ponytail she’d corralled her hair into once she’d finally taken the gifted beanie off bouncing around with the movement. “John Diggle, obviously, is your head of security. He knows about this whole ridiculous  _ thing _ .”

 

She gestures vaguely between them, ignoring the way Oliver shakes his head at her.

 

“But his wife, Lyla, might not,” she continues, squeezing her eyes shut. “And they’ll be bringing their two kids; John Jr. and baby Sara.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Oliver hums, leaning back against the couch and folding his arms over his chest. “And Tommy and Sara usually show up around the same time, which typically means right before dinner.”

 

He chuckles warmly at his own teasing comment and Felicity spins back to face him. His eyes have drifted shut, but he looks lighter than she’s seen him. There’s a weight that sits heavy on his shoulders typically, one she’s grown familiar with on her own back. But, tonight, after a long, quiet day spent with family, he looks young and soft.

 

“Tommy Merlyn,” she says, shaking herself out of the thought. “Your best friend from childhood. Your parents used to be really close with his dad until he went to prison for conspiracy a few years ago.” Off Oliver’s look she tacks on, frowning, “Which I am not supposed to mention. Right.”

 

“Felicity,” he says, pushing off of the couch to meet her in her pacing. She stops in front of him, having to look up at him and feeling incredibly small all of a sudden. He places his arms gently on her biceps, over the fabric of the borrowed hoodie she’s still wearing, and says, “It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

 

“If Tommy’s your best friend,” she frowns, fidgeting nervously with her hands, “then, won’t he find it strange that you’ve never mentioned having a serious girlfriend?”

 

“Tommy and I are both pretty busy,” he shrugs, his hands still stroking soothingly over her arms. “We don’t get to catch up as often as I’d like, but we’re still best friends, family. When we get together, it’s like no time has passed.”

 

“That’s sweet,” she says quietly, offering him a gentle smile. He returns it. After a second, she throws her head back and groans, placing her hands on her cheeks when she looks back at him. “Oliver, I’ve never been this stressed out in my entire life.”

 

She lets her head fall forward again, her forehead colliding with his chest as she lets out another groan. His chest shakes against her as he laughs at her and she smacks his arm gently.

 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she whines, the sound muffled from the way her face is pressed into his t-shirt.

 

“Felicity, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” he says and she pulls back from him, risking glancing up at him. “My parents, my sister, they all already love you and you’re going to do the same to my friends, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

 

“You think they like me that much?” She asks, frowning a little at the sincerity in his voice. Shouldn’t they be trying to avoid his family developing any sort of attachment to her? Oliver nods, though, and she can’t help but feel a little better at the compliment. She needs to stop worrying, at least until she actually has something to worry about.

 

“Now, can we please get some sleep?” He requests, already pulling away from her to head to the couch. Felicity sighs, glancing towards the clock on the nightstand. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been making them do this.

 

She’s still anxious about the rest of the week to come, but she gathers up her notecards into a stack and shoves them into her purse. Oliver disappears behind the bathroom door and she hears the faucet turn on as he brushes his teeth.

 

Felicity sits down on the edge of the bed and considers that they might actually make it through this week.

 

\---

 

Oliver is right about the timeliness of his parent’s guests. John and his family had shown up in the late afternoon and apparently Sara and Tommy had phoned to let them know they were going to be a little late. Oliver had shaken his head when his mother had told them, showing amusement at his friends. No one had seemed terribly surprised by the phone call.

 

“So, how dressy is dinner?” Felicity asks, weighing her options as she looks down at her suitcase. Oliver had moved his clothes from his bag to the dresser and closet, but she had decided to keep hers in her bags. “Because, I don’t want to look ridiculous.”

 

“I’m sure whatever you wear will be fine,” Oliver calls from the bathroom. She straightens up, picking out a burgundy colored dress and stalking towards the bathroom.

 

“That’s not an answer,” she tells him, crossing her arms over the sweatshirt she’s currently wearing and glaring at him in the mirror. He’s not dressed yet, either, but he’s styled his short hair into perfection. Which, for Oliver, she kind of doubts takes too much effort.

 

“Out,” she directs, hooking her thumb back in the direction of the bedroom. He raises an eyebrow at her in the mirror, but complies, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him to give her some privacy.

 

She spends more time than she’d meant to just trying to get her hair up into the style she wants, curls pinned up on one side at the back of her neck. It’s nice enough, she supposes, to get her through dinner. She isn’t sure why tonight feels so different, but it just does. John she had already met and he knows she and Oliver are lying to everyone.

 

But, meeting Oliver’s oldest and closest friends is bringing on the same kind of anxiety she’d had when she’d first arrived at his parents’ house. For the past few days, it’s all come at least somewhat naturally. There have been moments when she remembers exactly the weight of what they’re doing, but otherwise she could ignore it. She could feel welcome, not like an intruder in a space not her own.

 

But his friends? These are the people who, assumedly, know him best. That’s a heavy reminder of what they’re doing. So maybe she’s overcompensating a bit, with the dark red lipstick and the burgundy lace dress, but she thinks she has a pretty good excuse.

 

“Okay, how’s this?” She asks coming out of the bathroom as she adjusts the cuffs on the quarter sleeves coming down her arms. When Oliver doesn’t answer right away, she looks up to find him staring at her.

 

It’s mildly gratifying to have that effect.

 

“Uh, it’s perfect,” he says, shaking himself out of it. Felicity bites down on the tip of her tongue, glancing away from him and toying with the arrow resting at her clavicle. Oliver notices the movement, commenting, “You’re wearing the necklace.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” she says, letting her hand fall away. Instead, she fidgets with the engagement ring on her finger. “I figured I’d be expected to. But, uh, I’ll make sure I get it back to you.”

 

“Felicity, it was a gift,” he tells her. “Consider it a thank you, if it helps.”

 

She nods, unsure what else to say. Between the ring and the necklace, she’s wearing thousands of dollars in jewelry from him and that’s… Well, it’s a lot to consider. She hadn’t thought he’d actually bought the necklace for her, but as a prop for his family’s sake.

 

“Oh, if you’re gonna wear that dress, then I should…,” he says, trailing off and making her frown at him as he passes by her to reach the closet behind her. She spins on her bare feet, tracking him as he pulls his black sweater over his head.

 

He reaches into the closet, pulling out a pressed dress shirt nearly the same color as the dress she’s wearing. He drapes it over the back of the couch and begins unbuttoning the white dress shirt he’s already wearing. Felicity spins, suddenly unsure of where to look as he pulls the shirt over his shoulders and she gets a glimpse of his, admittedly amazing, abs.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut and curses him quietly. Can he be flawed in just one way physically? Because so far all she’s managed to see is chiseled-jaw, piercing-eyes, fit-like-a-dream perfection. Maybe there really is a god and he has a totally mediocre penis.

 

Not wanting him to know that she literally can’t look at him without a shirt on without going the same color as her bright red nails, she crosses over to her bags and pulls out a pair of nude pumps. Dropping them to the floor, she slips her feet into them and turns back to Oliver.

 

“How’s that?” He asks, adjusting the hem of his sweater over the new shirt as he rounds the couch to join her. She nods, surveying his outfit. She’s surprised at how well the dress shirt matches the shade of her dress.

 

“Here, just,” she says, stepping up to him to tug the corner of his collar from under the neckline of the sweater and pat it down against the knitted material. She can feel his eyes on her as she concentrates on adjusting the collar until it rests perfectly on top of the sweater.

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as her hands stroke across his chest, smoothing the cotton down. She finally steps back, satisfied with the job she’s done. 

 

Felicity nods in response to his gratitude, looking up at him. A soft knock at the open door to the bedroom pulls them out of the moment and Felicity spins away from him so quickly she thinks one of the pins in her hair comes loose. Thea is standing in the open doorway in a flowy top and the sparkliest dark blue pants Felicity has ever seen.

 

“Hey, a car just a pulled up,” she tells them. “Mom wants everyone downstairs to greet them and then we’ll have dinner.”

 

“We’ll be right down,” Oliver assures her and Felicity nods in agreement. Thea disappears down the hallway and Felicity feels Oliver’s fingers wrap gently around her forearm.

 

“Hey, don’t worry too much, okay?” He says as she turns back to him. “No one is trying to unravel our stories.”

 

“I know,” she nods, taking a deep breath. It’s not like they’re all going to be analyzing everything she says, looking for any holes in her stories. That doesn’t necessarily mean her anxiety understands that. Oliver’s fingers slip down her arm and wrap around her hand, squeezing gently.

 

“Come on,” he says softly, tilting his head towards the open door. He doesn’t release her hand as they head out of the room.

 

\---

 

If Felicity were to believe in Christmas miracles - or even Hanukkah miracles for that matter - she might be tempted to call Sara Lance exactly that.

 

Tommy and Sara had arrived as expected, but Oliver hadn’t been the only one with a surprise significant other in tow for the holiday season. Nyssa seems nice, if quiet and oddly intense, but the real miracle is that it takes the focus of conversation off of Felicity and Oliver’s relationship. Moira and Thea have already more or less gotten their questions about Felicity answered, so they turn the third degree on Sara and Nyssa instead, grilling the women on how they met, how long they’ve been together.

 

At the least, it gives Felicity a moment to breathe during the conversations. Tommy is still interested in her and Oliver, having spent an entire cab ride from the train station with Sara and Nyssa. It’s easier to field Tommy’s questions, though, as most of them are playful interest. He oscillates between asking her about herself and trying to catch up with Oliver.

 

“How is Laurel?” Moira asks from the head of the table where she sits, Walter at the other end. They’re eating in the larger, more formal dining room tonight. The table still only just manages to support all of the guests. “I was so hoping she’d make it this year.”

 

“Laurel doesn’t really know what a holiday is anymore,” Sara answers, smirking over her wine glass. Tommy shares a tired look with her, but it’s more amused than anything else.

 

Laurel, Oliver had told her, is Tommy’s wife and Sara’s sister. He hadn’t bothered to give her much information, since she wouldn’t be coming to the dinner, but Felicity knows she’s a defense attorney in San Francisco and a workaholic. All she really knows is that, between the Queens, the Merlyns, and the Lances, they’re all old friends with a lot of history.

 

“She’s good, though,” Tommy says, finally answering Moira’s question. “Couldn’t justify taking a Christmas break if her clients couldn’t.”

 

“That sounds like her,” Moira laughs, shaking her head. “And how about the club? How is that going?”

 

“Good,” Tommy nods, looking excited to talk about his business. Felicity remembers Oliver mentioning that he owns a successful nightclub in San Francisco. It had started as a way to rebel against his own father’s legacy after he’d been arrested, but Oliver said it’s really helped Tommy come into his own. Tommy goes on, “Actually, we’re doing so well that I’m planning on opening a second location.”

 

“You own a club?” Her own mom perks up from down the table and Felicity tenses up in nervousness at her becoming too excited over the prospect of knowing a successful nightclub owner. Tommy nods, explaining where the place is located and Donna leans forward a bit, asking, “What’s the revenue like in that area? It must be good if you’re branching off, but do you have much competition there?”

 

She must see the way Felicity’s jaw is nearly on the table, because she rolls her eyes and gives her a look.

 

“I’ve worked in clubs since I was nineteen, Felicity,” she reminds her and Felicity snaps her jaw shut, feeling chastised. “I know how the business works.”

 

Tommy blows past it easily, the conversation between him and her mother becoming shockingly technical. Felicity feels a bit like she’s watching a tennis match, the way she stares between the two wide eyed. Oliver’s hand falls over hers, squeezing it gently and pulling her attention away from the conversation. He winks and she shakes her head at herself, lifting her wine glass to her lips.

 

She should know better than to underestimate her mother by now anyway.

 

“So, Ollie,” Sara calls across the table and Felicity becomes nervous because she doesn’t really know the woman well, but the way she’s smirking at them makes her think it can’t be good. “How did you ask Felicity to marry you?”

 

Oliver glances over at Felicity, his fingers tightening around hers.

 

“Oh my God, how did I never ask you that?” Thea gasps, reaching over and squeezing Sara’s wrist in excitement. There’s an age gap between the women, but Felicity gets the feeling they’d bonded over their places as younger siblings through the years.

 

It’s not an unexpected question. Actually, Felicity had expected to get it much earlier and she’s enough of a control freak to have insisted they come up with a story. All Oliver has to do is deliver it.

 

“It wasn’t anything too special,” he sighs in a self depreciating way. Felicity rolls her eyes playfully, squeezing his hand.

 

“He’s being modest,” she interjects.

 

“I’ve never known Oliver to do that before,” Tommy says, frowning teasingly at Oliver who gives him a dark look.

 

“I took Felicity to the restaurant where we’d had our first date,” Oliver presses on.

 

“Chez Marta,” she cuts in again, earning a soft sideways look from Oliver. She holds her hands up, letting go of his and reaching for her wine glass instead. “Sorry, sorry. You tell it. You tell it better.”

 

They hadn’t rehearsed anything, but she’d come up with details. It seemed a waste for Oliver not to at least use them. He chuckles at her, his arm falling over the back of her chair now that their fingers aren’t locked together.

 

“So, we went to  _ Chez Marta _ ,” Oliver corrects pointedly before continuing, “and I had called ahead and booked a private dining room. We ate, chatted. She was definitely onto me all night, but I didn’t propose at the restaurant and I think that threw her off.”

 

Felicity nods in agreement, sipping from her wine glass as she watches Oliver spinning the tale for the rest of the table. His eyes are on her, though, and her stomach flutters in anticipation as if she doesn’t know where the tale is going, doesn’t know that it’s all made up.

 

“I had made souffle for us which was waiting when we got home,” he continues, clearing his throat and looking away from her. “And, you know, the ring was in hers and I just asked.”

 

Felicity blinks a few times, the spell breaking at the sound of her mother cooing from down the table and Thea’s quiet squeal. She tilts her glass towards her lips again, taking a deep swig of the dark red liquid.

 

“You put a priceless diamond in a dessert?” Nyssa asks, one of the few things she’s said all night, and Oliver nods. “That’s the straightest thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

Thea snorts in surprise at the comment and Sara pinches her girlfriend’s forearm, giving her a chastising look. Felicity presses her fingers over her mouth in an attempt to hide her grin. Even Moira lets out a laugh at the comment at her son’s expense. Oliver doesn’t seem affected, his fingers playing at the curls lying at the base of Felicity’s neck. She represses a shiver as the pads of his fingers drag over her skin.

 

“Okay, so, you proposed, what,” Sara asks, once the amusement in the room settles, “a week ago? But, when did you know? Like,  _ know _ -know, you know?”

 

“Do I?” Oliver asks jokingly, leaning towards the table a little to smirk at Sara across from him. She rolls her eyes, giving him a look and he shrugs, looking back over at Felicity. “There wasn’t some big, world stopping moment or anything. I just looked at her one day and she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, the kindest. She calls me on my shit. Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with her?”

 

She gives him a soft smile, leaning towards him without fully realizing she’s doing it until he’s mirroring her and Thea and Tommy are offering quiet, and only half-sarcastic, ‘aww’s. He kisses her softly, closing the gap between them with his hand on the back of her neck, her fingers just under his jaw.

 

What had he said outside Thea’s apartment three days ago? Do what comes naturally? 

 

Felicity pulls away from him slowly, blinking a few times and reaching for her wine glass again. Oliver’s focus returns to the table at large, the topic of conversation moving on from them.

 

Felicity is trying to figure out when everything with Oliver had become natural.

 

\---

 

Oliver returns to his morning run routine the next day and is gone before she wakes up. Felicity showers and finds something comfortable and warm to wear before heading downstairs. She finds her mom and Lyla, John’s wife, in the sitting room with their youngest, Sara.

 

Felicity had asked Oliver if it gets confusing having two Sara’s, but apparently “baby Sara” has become an accepted nickname that she’s sure the girl will regret as she gets older. Donna Smoak never passes up an opportunity to hang out with a baby and it gives Felicity an opportunity to chat with Lyla, something she hadn’t gotten to do at dinner.

 

All she really learns is that the woman has some sort of government job that she either can’t or doesn’t want to give details on. Felicity is fine with that, considering that at one point in her life she - or rather her hacker alias - was wanted by certain branches of the government. That’s not exactly something she needs to let slip, especially once Moira joins them.

 

“Have you seen my husband?” Lyla asks as Moira takes her seat on the couch next to Donna, reaching over to pinch baby Sara’s chubby little arm. “He went out for a run with Oliver this morning and I haven’t seen him come back.”

 

“Oh, they’re outside with the rest of the kids,” Moira tells her, setting her coffee mug to the side and taking Sara from Donna’s arms. Felicity assumes that by ‘kids’ she actually means the rest of the guests Felicity’s age. She decides to leave the group of mothers to themselves and search for Oliver instead.

 

She tugs on her coat and scarf, bundling up with the matching gloves Moira had bought her. She shoves the hat into her coat pocket, not wanting to take her hair out of its ponytail. She finds John and Oliver around the back of the house along with Tommy, Thea, and John Jr.

 

“Hey, good morning,” Oliver greets her, breaking away from where he and Tommy had been helping J.J. roll snow together for a snowman while John watched on. He’s still dressed for his run, cheeks red from the cold wind. He bends forward, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Good,” she says, grinning up at him. The sun behind him shines off of the white snow and she has to squint a bit to look at him. “Have you ever heard of this interesting new concept called sleeping in?”

 

“I slept in yesterday,” he laughs and she shakes her head at him. Tommy calls for him to stop flirting and finish helping them build Frosty. Oliver winks at her before turning and heading back.

 

“You two seem chummy,” John comments and Felicity startles, not having realized he’d been listening to them. She shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

 

“We have to make people buy it,” she reminds him, ignoring the sideways look he gives her. She watches the boys stack a second large, round clump of snow on top of the first.

 

“Right,” he says eventually, “People.”

 

“What is with you two anyway?” She asks suddenly, turning to him. He raises an eyebrow and she gestures towards where Oliver is now helping J.J. roll together a snowball to throw at an unsuspecting Tommy. “You’re his head of security who just happens to vacation at his parents house over Christmas?”

 

“Technically we’re here for New Years,” John corrects her and she gives him a dark look. “Oliver is a good man. He hired me after he decided to take over the company and, despite our initial attempts, we became friends, our families became friends. He’s a good man who made a tough decision coming back to Starling.”

 

“You sound like you admire him,” she points out.

 

“I did a couple tours in the army,” he says turning to her and Felicity frowns, unsure where this is going. “Something I learned after I got back is that home is battlefield. To choose to come home once you’ve left, that takes strength. Oliver made that decision for his family, to protect Thea from the burden of the company and his mother from the burden of grief. He may have his faults, but deciding to come back to Starling City was the least selfish thing he’ll ever do.”

 

Felicity stares at him for a minute, frowning and trying to let what he’s telling her sink in. J.J. calls for him, laughter in his voice as Tommy lifts him up and swings him around, and John touches her arm gently before jogging away from her to join his son in his playing. Tommy sets J.J. down just before Thea nails him in the back with a snowball.

 

Oliver and Thea end up teamed up against Tommy while J.J. and John run around just trying to avoid the skirmish. Without much input from her, Tommy runs over and grabs her wrist, tugging her across the snow covered yard with him and insisting she be on his team.

 

It spirals into an all out war from there.

 

\---

 

They spend most of the day outside. Once J.J. gets a taste for the fun to be had, he insists they not let it end. After dinner, Felicity and Sara teach him how to make a perfect snow angel. She’d be worried about him catching a cold, but he’d been pretty bundled up and Lyla and John seemed to appreciate how much they’d tired him out.

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again,” she laughs as Oliver gets the fireplace in their room heating up. Felicity sits dangerously close to the red bricks with a knitted blanket around her shoulders. Once the fire is going, Oliver settles next to her. She sets the mug of hot chocolate she’d been using to warm her hands down on the floor on her opposite side.

 

“I don’t remember the last time I’d had that much fun,” he admits quietly, shaking his head. His face is still red from the cold, but his eyes are brighter than she’s ever seen them.

 

“Me either,” she frowns, realizing that it’s the truth. She runs her hand through her loose hair. “God, have I become boring?”

 

“I don’t think that’s possible for you,” Oliver says, smiling at her. She laughs, shoving him lightly. He rocks playfully to the side with the momentum of the shove before straightening back up. They settle into a comfortable silence as they let the warmth from the fire reach them.

 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks after a few moments, once she’s beginning to feel less like an icicle.

 

“Would it stop you if I said no?” He asks jokingly and she smirks, shaking her head in the negative. “Then go for it.”

 

He’s been much more playful today, after a whole day spent teaching J.J. the perfect way to mold together a snowball and arguing with Tommy over how to properly build snowmen. It makes her feel a little braver, probing the way she wants to. Because, the truth is, despite her fears of learning too much and giving so little those first few nights, she still feels like she knows him on a surface level.

 

No less than she did before all of this, but only slightly more.

 

“What did you do?” She asks and he adjusts on the floor so he’s angled towards her, frowning. “The years you were away from Starling. Where did you go?”

 

“Oh,” he says quietly, frowning down at his hands. She thinks maybe she’s caught him off guard with the question. “I went sort of everywhere for a little while, but also nowhere. Does that make sense? I actually decided to come back after a year, maybe, but I wanted to be someone else when I got back. So, I took some business classes and decided to take on the company when I got back.”

 

It’s a good answer, but…

 

“You know, Dig said something to me today that just got me thinking,” she explains, looking towards the flames rising up towards the red bricks of the chimney. “He said home is a battlefield and that it takes strength to decide to go back.”

 

“Well, Dig’s a smart guy but he can be a little overly poetic for my taste,” Oliver deflects and Felicity frowns at him. He must sense her disapproval at the joke, because he presses on, “I had to come back, there wasn’t much choice. I owed it to my mom and to my father’s memory, to the company. I had spent so much time avoiding those responsibilities and when my dad died it all just seemed so…”

 

“Heavy,” she finishes for him as he searches for the right word. He nods at the suggestion and Felicity takes a deep breath, preparing herself before she continues, “When I was seven my dad left. No explanation, no goodbye. He just left. My mom worked harder than I could appreciate at the time, but I just always had more in common with my dad. More than I even knew then.”

 

“I didn’t realize,” Oliver says quietly, reaching over to wrap her hand in his own. His fingers have already grown much warmer than her own.

 

“We don’t really talk about him,” she shrugs. “That way lies danger. But, when I left home, I never looked back. I moved across the country for college, took the first software development job I was offered, moved to Starling. I never even considered going back.”

 

“You strike me as the type of person who knew exactly what you wanted with your life,” he comments.

 

“I guess,” she admits, nodding. “And you? Are you saying you didn’t want to be master of the universe when you were a kid?”

 

“Not exactly,” he laughs, mirth making his eyes shine. Felicity squeezes his hand. “The company was always just there, like a spectre. I never really thought about what I wanted to do, because I knew what I was expected to do.”

 

“Do you like it?” She asks. He frowns, contemplating the question for a long moment. Felicity watches him as he stares into the fire now, his thoughts moving in his head as he seeks out the answer to her question.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve been doing it for five years now and I’m not sure I’m any better at it. But I like it.”

 

“Good,” she nods and Oliver squeezes her hand this time. She thinks that’ll be the end of it, that he’ll pull his hand away and it’ll be like they never had the conversation. But even as he turns back to face the fire, stretching his legs out towards the warm bricks, his hand stays wrapped in hers.

 

“I have another question,” she declares after a solid five minutes of thoughtful silence. Oliver laughs and she takes it as tacit approval. “How is that you don’t have someone you actually want to propose to back in Starling?”

 

“Is it that so hard to believe?” He asks, glancing back at her with a smirk. She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow at him because, well, she’s not blind. Even if she was, Oliver is one of the most eligible and hottest bachelors in the city. It doesn’t take a genius to see how gorgeous he is. He shrugs, saying, “I just haven’t really had the time to meet anyone that isn’t a board member or a reporter. Even if I did, it’s hard to balance my time well enough to sustain a relationship.”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs, stretching her own legs out and placing one ankle on top of the other. “That sounds familiar.”

 

Oliver pulls his hand from hers suddenly and it startles her, having become so accustomed to his warm, large hand wrapped around hers. She forgot it wasn’t a normal way for them to behave when it’s just the two of them. No one around to convince or lie to.

 

“You know, when I asked you to go along with this, I really thought you were gonna turn me down because you were seeing someone,” he says and she frowns at him. “No one’s waiting around to propose to you?”

 

“Well, if they are, they haven’t told me about it,” she jokes, shrugging. 

 

Oliver’s situation doesn’t sound so different from her own. She’s been fine with being single the past few years, especially with how important it’s become that she keep her focus on Helix. The last thing she needs is a board of old men telling her she can’t properly do her job because she’s too focused on a relationship or something equally ridiculous.

 

“Maybe you just have to be open to it,” he comments and she raises an eyebrow at him. He shrugs, adding, “Maybe we both do.”

 

Felicity considers him for a moment before turning to pick her mug back up and holding it out to him. He mirrors her, reaching for his own nearly untouched hot chocolate and pressing the lip of it just against hers.

 

“To being open to it,” she toasts as the ceramic clinks together.

 

“To being open to it,” he echoes.

 

\---

 

Felicity wakes up around two in the morning because she really has to pee. She ignores it for a bit, trying to fall back asleep, but gives into the whims of her body eventually. Cold immediately seeps into her bare feet as they touch the wood floor beneath the bed. She fights back a shiver and crosses towards the bathroom.

 

She stops halfway, peeking over the back of the couch to where Oliver is stretched across the piece of furniture. Half of his body is practically on the floor and Felicity feels a sudden pang of guilt for never checking whether he was actually sleeping well on the couch.

 

She rounds the couch, crouching next to his head and prodding his shoulder with her fingers as she calls his name softly.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, words slurred with sleep as he blinks at her.

 

“I told you, you’re twice the size of this couch,” she says, finding his hand and tugging at it gently. “The bed is more than big enough for both of us. Go lay down on that instead.”

 

He shifts as if he’s going to comply and she lets his hand go, finishing her path to the bathroom. She figures if he hasn’t moved by the time she finishes, she can just tug him off the couch and that’ll rouse him. Maybe she should put a few pillows down on the floor first, though.

 

After she washes her hands, drying them thoroughly to avoid the water clinging to her skin turning cold and creating more shivers, she heads back into the room. A lump on the bed lets her know Oliver had actually listened to her. He’s much less argumentative when he’s half asleep, that’s good to know.

 

She crawls into the bed on the side she’d been laying on - at least he’d taken care not to steal her nice warm spot - and rolls to face the windows rather than his back. The bed is much warmer with another body, or maybe that’s just her mind playing tricks on her due to the cold floor, and she falls back into sleep easily.

 

It takes her a few minutes when she wakes up to figure out why her comforter is so heavy around her. Her entire body tenses at the realization that Oliver has shifted in the night and is now wrapped around her. Her stomach twists as he shifts against her, his fingers on her stomach clenching.

 

He’s definitely either awake or waking up. And, yeah, that’s definitely  _ something _ pressing up against her lower back. So, from what she can feel and just by guessing, there is not, in fact, a god. The soft skin of his fingers drag over the space where her tank top has pulled up and her stomach muscles tighten in response to the small touch.

 

The bastard chuckles against her neck and Felicity bites down on her tongue in annoyance. In retaliation, she wiggles against him, adjusting so her butt is pressed against the morning wood he’s woken up with and grinding her hips back into it. His fingers tighten almost painfully at her stomach and she risks a glance back at him over her shoulder.

 

His eyes are closed but he feels her move and they open to meet hers. The blue there has gone dark, hooded with arousal and, fuck, she really does not want him to stop looking at her like that. He uses the leverage of his arm wrapped around her to twist her towards him and, this time, when he kisses her it isn’t soft or hesitant like under the mistletoe.

 

Felicity ends up on top of him, Oliver pulling her bottom lip into his mouth as she moves against him. His hands move listlessly, looking for a place to settle while trying to touch everywhere. One pushes up underneath her tank top while the other slides over the curve of her ass. She pulls away from him, gasping as his hips press up against hers just right and his mouth drags down her chest, leaving open mouthed kisses over the tops of her breasts.

 

His other hand joins its counterpart on her ass, squeezing and caressing as she wiggles against him. She runs her fingers through his hair, trying to find purchase as his beard scrapes against her chest and his tongue comes out to taste the skin at her clavicle. She tugs at his hair, angling his face back upwards so she can cover his mouth with hers again.

 

She’s moving dangerously against him, his hands tugging gently, hesitantly at the waistband of her fuzzy pajama pants, when someone knocks at the closed door of their bedroom. Felicity freezes, tugging away from him and panting slightly. Oliver stares up at her, eyes still so dark, but she can see her own surprise and worry reflected back at her.

 

“Are you guys awake?” Thea calls from the other side of the door, knocking a little louder this time.

 

“Yeah, Thea,” Oliver calls back, clearing his throat as Felicity extracts her fingers from his hair and slides carefully off of him. He squeezes his eyes shut as her hips knock against his. “We’re awake.”

 

“Donna wants to go into town,” Thea explains and Felicity is so, so grateful the girl has enough sense not to open the door without permission. “We’re gonna have a girls day and do some shopping, so Felicity needs to get dressed and meet us downstairs.”

 

“I’ll, uh,” Felicity starts, settling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and avoiding looking over at Oliver, “I’ll be right down.”

 

Thea calls something vaguely in response and Oliver and Felicity sit in uncomfortable silence until they’re sure she’s gone. Felicity bites down on her lip, trying to force herself to keep her mouth shut, just this once, rather than making things worse.

 

“I’m gonna go for a run,” Oliver announces finally and she nods, still unable to look at him as he rounds the bed and passes by her for the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him and she flops backwards on the bed, wishing her heart would stop hammering against her chest.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver deal with their awkwardness as only they can - by avoiding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The final part. I really, really hope you've all enjoyed this story! The responses to it have been so kind and overwhelming - they've helped make my holiday season. I hope you all have a fantastic New Year!

Felicity’s entire body is still tense by the time they get to town. They’d had to call two cars for the group of women and she’d been shoved into a car with Thea, Sara, and Nyssa while her mother rode with Moira and Lyla. It’s not that any of the others have made her feel uncomfortable on the drive it’s just that…

 

God, does Oliver have to be good at  _ everything _ ? Did she really need to know what it felt like to have him grinding his hips upwards into hers? How easily his short, kempt beard left the sensitive skin of her chest red and still feeling the scrape of his jaw against her breasts?

 

It doesn’t help that it’s been months since anyone besides herself managed to get her off. Though, she can’t shake the feeling that the rolling in her stomach, the anxiety, the unresolved tension low in her abdomen, is far more to do with the man that had caused it than any measure of time or biology.

 

Honestly? Fuck him. ...Except, no, that’s literally the whole problem. Shit.

 

“You know, honey, it’s pretty cold out,” she hears her mother say and realizes that the world has somehow continued spinning on around her. How is that possible? She’d swear it should be upside down. Her mom continues, “If you keep that pinched expression, your face might just freeze that way.”

 

“Physically impossible,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

 

“You need to perk up, okay?” Donna says instructively, straightening her own shoulders and giving Felicity a serious look. “We’re never going to find you a dress if you spend the whole day pouting.”

 

Felicity freezes, frowning at her mother.

 

“And, why do we need to find me a dress?” She asks warily, looking towards Thea and Sara for assistance. They’re examining the storefront next to them, offering absolutely no help.

 

“For New Year’s Eve!” Her mother practically squeals.

 

“I packed a dress for New Year’s Eve,” she tells her.

 

“Yes, sweetie, I’m sure you did,” Donna sighs. “But I also know you pretty well after twenty-seven years and I know you probably packed something delightfully tame.”

 

“Delightfully tame?” Felicity echoes, offense coloring her tone. Donna steps closer, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially.

 

“Have you seen that man you’re engaged to?” She asks and, oh yes, Felicity most certainly had. “You’re gonna wow him, okay? Jaw-dropped, speechless wowed. You’ll thank me later.”

 

“I’m already engaged to him,” Felicity argues. “Why would I need to wow him?”

 

Donna gives her the most dramatic look that tells Felicity she’s being incredibly obtuse - even if she disagrees with the sentiment, thank you very much - before turning and leading the way down the sidewalk.

 

“My dress is not tame,” she grumbles to herself, feeling like an upset child.

 

She thinks about the, admittedly conservative, dark blue sweater dress she’d brought for the holiday party in a few days. Sara’s the one who squeezes her shoulder, offering her a sympathetic look that she thinks is only half-sarcastic, and urging her to follow after the rest of the group.

 

“Your mom’s right, you know,” she says as they trail after the other women. Donna still leads the way, but Moira has joined her at the front while Thea and Lyla chat with Nyssa just behind them.

 

“How’s that?” Felicity frowns, watching her mother excitedly turn them into a boutique with sparkly short dresses and fake snow in the window front. Sara places her hand on Felicity’s forearm gently, stopping her just before they enter the shop.

 

“Well, if you want the attention of someone you’re into, wearing something low cut and form fitting certainly helps,” she explains and Felicity’s confusion only furthers. First of all, she doesn’t know that she’s into Oliver. But, as far as Sara is concerned…

 

“Why would I need to get his attention?” She asks, chuckling lightheartedly at Sara’s comments. She figures it bears repeating, since everyone here seems to have amnesia, “We’re already engaged.”

 

“Well, if that’s true,” Sara says, leadingly in a way that makes Felicity think she doesn’t totally believe that it is. Her body goes tense at the realization that, if she wanted to, Sara might be able to unravel all of her and Oliver’s hard work. She continues, winking at Felicity, “Then it certainly can’t hurt.”

 

With nothing more than a smirk, Sara turns and heads into the boutique, leaving a flustered Felicity out in the cold by herself.

 

\---

 

Felicity hates how easily manipulated she can be sometimes. It’s how she ends up with an almost obscenely tight dress with cutouts in places she’s not sure cutouts should be. In fairness, it hadn’t even been her mom who’d spotted it, but Felicity herself.

 

They’d spent more time exploring the small town than she’d expected, their trip going on into the afternoon. She’d noticed the dress on a mannequin in the back of one of the stores they’d ended up in and, before she could move away, her attention had been noticed. Next thing she knew Thea was fetching an attendant while her mom was ushering her into a dressing room.

 

She doesn’t know what’s going on with her and Oliver or if she even wants to pursue it. But, looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit the dress looked amazing on her. The response when she’d stepped out of the dressing room had been gratifying as well.

 

“Oh, Felicity,” her mom had gasped, clasping her hands together in front of her and bouncing on her toes. “Honey, you look amazing!”

 

“I’d hit it,” Nyssa offered succinctly, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking at Felicity who frowned over at Sara.

 

“She’s not wrong,” Sara had shrugged before giving Felicity an encouraging smile. “Get it.”

 

And so she had. Now it’s hanging in a garment bag on the back of the bathroom door and she’s glaring at it like it’s wronged her in some way. It wasn’t particularly out of her price range, but it hadn’t been cheap either. Which normally wouldn’t bother her - Felicity is, at heart, a woman who loves a good dress.

 

Except she can’t seem to shake what her mom and Sara had been insisting. That if she wanted Oliver’s attention, this dress would be sure to do it. Except, she’s not sure if she wants Oliver’s attention. A day walking around town had given her time to think about that morning.

 

Oliver had woken up horny, wrapped around her. She’d teased him because… well, because she had wanted to. But pushing it any further and testing those limits would only complicate things. She just needed to keep her distance from him for the next few days. Just because they’re engaged doesn’t mean they need to be attached at the hip. Surely he’ll understand if she wants to spend time with her mother before she leaves or even get to know his friends better.

 

That’s not suspicious, right?

 

Of course, that’s ignoring the Sara Lance-of-it-all. After their conversation, the other woman hadn’t really dropped anymore blatant hints that she knew about Felicity and Oliver’s ruse, but still she’s pretty sure Sara knows. Or at least suspects. She wishes she could ask how she knows, what they had done that had given them away so easily, if Tommy or Nyssa or Thea knows.

 

More importantly, should she tell Oliver? It would involve actually talking to him, which she hasn’t done since she’d left that morning. Avoiding him had been easy enough considering the girl’s day had gone late into the afternoon. When they’d gotten back, she’d gone upstairs to stow the dress and take a shower and she’s sort of been hiding in the bathroom since.

 

The most mature? No. But, Felicity has never really claimed to be very good at handling situations maturely. It’s probably part of the reason why Slade Wilson has stuck around as long as he has, tormenting her for her petulant attitude. God, she hasn’t even had time to worry about Helix Dynamics over the past few days, but that’s just one more thing she’ll need to deal with.

 

Tomorrow, she decides. Helix is Tomorrow-Felicity’s problem. Right now, she can only focus on so much at once and keeping her and Oliver’s secret has to be the priority at the moment. But first she has to gather up the courage to leave the bathroom.

 

“Stop being stupid,” she hisses at herself, turning to the mirror over the sink and smoothing her hand over the top of her ponytail. With one more fortifying breath, she pulls the bathroom door open and heads back into the bedroom, stalling at the sight of Oliver standing in front of the dresser with his back to her. He pulls a dark green knit sweater over his head, adjusting it over his gray t-shirt.

 

She thinks she startles him, too, when he turns around and sees her, frozen in front of the bathroom door.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly.

 

“Hey,” she echoes, feeling suddenly self conscious. She smoothes her hands over the deep purple sweater she’d chosen after her shower.

 

“Listen, we should probably talk,” he says and Felicity spins away, reaching for her glasses where she’d left them on the nightstand, suddenly unable to look at him. He adds, unnecessarily, “About this morning.”

 

“Should we?” She shrugs, laughing in a way she wants to be carefree but really just sounds uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she slides her glasses onto her face and turns back to him. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been, you know, teasing you. It was my fault for letting things get out of hand and-”

 

“No, I’m- I’m sorry,” he insists, taking a solitary step towards her before freezing. Jesus, they can’t even get within a few feet of each other without feeling uncomfortable. What is everyone else going to think? He shakes his head at himself. “We had just woken up, we weren’t in the right headspace. I shouldn’t have escalated the situation.”

 

‘Escalated the situation,’ ‘letting things get out of hand.’ They sound like they’re talking about battleplans and not the fact that, had they been left uninterrupted, they would now be intimately aware of how the other tastes, how they feel pressed against each other, how they sound as they come apart…

 

And, she really needs her mind to not go there right now. All she had gotten was a small taste of him and she realizes with a sudden rush in her chest that she wants the whole meal.

 

“Close quarters,” she says suddenly and Oliver’s brow creases. “It messes with your head. It’s just a few more days, right?”

 

“Right,” he says quietly, but he’s still staring at her and she’s staring back. There’s nothing particularly special about her sweater and jeans, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick over her.

 

Trouble. That is what she had decided Oliver Queen was years ago, after the first time he’d waltzed into her office, charming his way right past her assistant and interrupting her meeting. He’d sent that handsome, fake smile her way and offered some lighthearted compliment and she’d known - just  _ known _ on an instinctual level - that he was the kind of man who could ruin her. And, crush or no crush, Felicity Smoak was done letting other people ruin her.

 

Someone raps lightly at the door frame and Felicity nearly gives herself whiplash as she looks over at the door she hadn’t realized was open. John seems unaffected by whatever he had walked in on.

 

“Quentin is here,” he says, looking between them. “And your mother would like everyone to come down for dinner.”

 

Felicity nods quickly, grabbing her phone off the nightstand and rushing past Oliver to reach the door. She feels both men’s eyes on her as she leaves, but doesn’t stop to deal with it.

 

“Thanks, John,” she says quietly as she passes him and heads down the hall. Just before she turns out of earshot, she hears him ask Oliver;

 

“Did I interrupt something?”

 

\---

 

Felicity spends the night practically glued to her mother’s side as the whole house joins once again for dinner. This time, Moira brings out the gingerbread houses Oliver and Thea had spent Christmas Eve decorating, placing them in the room with the tree for people to pick at as they mingle and chat. Moira has a present for each of the guests, except for Nyssa who had been a surprise after all, so not all of the boxes beneath the tree are there for decorative value.

 

Donna doesn’t miss the way Felicity is following her from room to room like a child at an adult party. She keeps earning strange looks from her mother, but she has enough discretion not to comment. Oliver helps his mother in playing host, moving between guests easily and holding conversations. Sara holds fast to her father’s arm as they chat with Oliver, Nyssa on the other side of the room talking quietly with Lyla as she bounces baby Sara on her hip.

 

J.J. is excitedly showing his father the, no doubt expensive, train set Moira had gifted him and John helps him set it up in the corner, away from dangerous grown up feet. When following her mom around begins to mean having to listen to her flirt with Quentin Lance, Felicity decides it’s time to find a new buffer. Sara has tugged Nyssa under the mistletoe and Tommy is playing judge to Thea’s and Oliver’s gingerbread houses.

 

Felicity decides to help John and J.J. get the train set up and running.

 

“Here,” she says, holding the connection point between two wires that will make the train circle the track out to J.J. “Put the blue part into the white square.”

 

He does so, grinning excitedly when the ports pop together and the wheels on the train begin to move. John reaches around J.J. in his lap to turn the power to the train off so they can get it settled onto the track before turning it back on. Felicity sits back a little, watching the pair as J.J. sets the train down, the wheels settling into the grooves on the track, and John hits the power.

 

The train begins to circle the small track they’ve created - leaving out pieces that would make the track long enough to wrap the Christmas tree - and J.J. claps excitedly, exclaiming to his father about the “cool train.” Felicity watches them, smiling at the scene J.J. is making that pulls Lyla and baby Sara over to join them. He hops out of his father’s lap to show his mom the train, Lyla handing the baby girl in her arms off to John, and Felicity takes that as her cue to let the family have their moment.

 

She pushes up onto her feet and turns, spotting Oliver’s eyes on her from the other side of the room. His interest in the gingerbread has been lost and, spotting this, Thea begins to pick pieces off of his house rather than her own. He doesn’t notice, offering Felicity a soft smile that she’s powerless to return.

 

After a moment, she breaks out of it, spinning around to find her mother again and reattaching herself to her side. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’s eight-years-old again as she holds fast to her mother’s arm and inserts herself into Donna and Walter’s conversation.

 

Once she’s feeling just a bit too much like a child and feels capable of doing something by herself again, she breaks away from the gathering happening in the large sitting room to test the cookies Moira’s spread out across the dining room table. She figures they must be the cookies Moira and Thea had been baking the first night they’d arrived and picks each up, examining it carefully for any sort of nuts.

 

“So, why exactly are you avoiding your fiancé?”

 

She spins around so fast, the cookie she’d been inspecting flies out of her hand and hits Tommy squarely in the chest. He frowns, looking down at the crumbs now littering his black button down before laughing at her. She huffs, turning back to the trays of cookies as he retrieves the one she’d thrown from the floor.

 

“I’m not avoiding him,” she argues, trying not to sound too defensive.

 

“Right,” Tommy says and she doesn’t know how he manages to put his eye roll into his tone of voice, but he sure does manage it. “You’re not avoiding him and he’s not out there pouting about it.”

 

He deposits the cookie onto the table cloth, away from the trays, and grabs a peanut butter cookie off of the tray Felicity has been avoiding. He breaks the chocolate kiss off of the top, popping that in his mouth and eating it first as he watches Felicity sniff a sugar cookie hesitantly.

 

“Seriously, what happened?” He asks, breaking his cookie in half. “Did you two have a fight or something?”

 

“No,” she says, finally taking a bite of the snowflake shaped cookie. As she chews, she considers that, actually, a lovers quarrel might be the best excuse for how squirrely she knows she’s been acting tonight. She presses on, once her mouth is no longer full, “Well, not like a fight-fight anyway.”

 

“Ah,” Tommy says, smirking like he’s expertly pulled it out of her. Felicity raises a tired eyebrow at him and takes another bite of the cookie. “There it is. Go on, tell Dr. Merlyn what’s wrong.”

 

Felicity stares at him for a long moment, taking another bite from her cookie. Tommy puts his hands up defensively, sighing.

 

“Fine, don’t tell me,” he says. “But just know I’ll remember how you assaulted me with baked goods for the rest of your life.”

 

“Not worried about it,” she smirks, shrugging lightheartedly at him. He chuckles, shaking his head and grabbing another cookie before turning and heading out of the dining room. 

 

She watches him leave, frowning to herself. Little does Tommy know that this whole thing has an expiration date. As soon as she leaves after the new year, he’ll be out of chances to tease her for the cookie incident. On top of whatever she’s feeling for Oliver - lust, she thinks, definitely just lust - she hadn’t considered the possibility of actually liking his family, his friends.

 

Felicity loves her job and the friends she has thanks to it, but for the most part she doesn’t have many friends back in Starling. It doesn’t normally bother her, the sort of loneliness she’s become used to, but she doubts leaving the big, full house for her empty loft will feel very good.

 

She’ll get to used to it again, she supposes.

 

Quentin only intends to spend the night. He’s a police captain in Starling City and doesn’t really get much of a break from the grind of it. Felicity understands, knowing that Starling isn’t exactly the safest city in the state. So, when he decides to call it a night, everyone more or less follows his lead. Sara walks up the stairs with him, Nyssa trailing behind them, as they make plans for the couple to visit Starling in the new year.

 

Felicity heads to bed before Oliver is finished bidding everyone goodnight, stealing away into their bathroom to change and prepare herself for bed before he can beat her to it. She knows if she tries to suggest she sleep on the couch, he’ll fight her on it, so she plans to trick him into letting her.

 

When she comes out of the bathroom, hair loose around her face and breath minty fresh, Oliver is already changed into his pajamas, waiting for his turn in the bathroom. She steps out of the way, letting him get to the bathroom and close the door behind him. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements, probably content to return to the couch.

 

Except, now that Felicity has seen exactly what Oliver sleeping on the couch looks like, she can’t in good conscious let him do it for another night. She’s considerably smaller than him, so when she settles down into the couch her entire body fits on the cushions. She pulls the blanket Oliver has been using over herself, snuggling into a cocoon of warmth.

 

She hears the faucet in the bathroom shut off and quickly reaches over to turn the light next to the couch off, snuggling further into the blanket and closing her eyes. She evens her breathing out as Oliver opens the bathroom door and steps out.

 

“Felicity?” He calls when he realizes she isn’t in the bed. She hears him release a sigh from just behind the couch at the sight of her, presumably, already asleep on the piece of furniture. She waits, wondering if he’ll try waking her to start a debate over where she should sleep.

 

After a moment of holding her breath, the bed moves, it’s springs squeaking beneath him as he settles his weight onto it. Felicity listens to the shifting of fabrics as he gets comfortable beneath the comforter and sheets.

 

“Goodnight, Felicity,” he says quietly, almost to himself, into the silence of the room before clicking off the light next to the bed. Felicity’s chest tightens as she stares into the dark mountains outside of the windows.

 

\---

 

Felicity wakes up to the bright sun shining in the windows again and wonders, groggily, why she hasn’t thought to ask about curtains for the large patio doors. She huffs, flopping around on the couch like a beached fish to bury her face in the cushions. The room is silent around her and she figures it probably means Oliver has left for his run.

 

If she wants to get ready for the day before he gets back, she needs to get up now. She reaches around blindly for her phone, her muscles stretching and aching with the movement. As comfy as the couch had been when she’d sunk into it the night before, her muscles are unused to such a small sleeping area and they hurt with the compression.

 

She decides to make use of the jacuzzi tub for the first time since she’d arrived at the cabin.

 

Gathering up her things for a bath, Felicity digs around in her purse until she finds the pair of Ramon Industries branded waterproof headphones that the company’s CEO had gifted her after a successful collaboration with Helix. She sits on the edge of the tub, letting the water fill behind her as she connects the wireless headphones to her phone and locates a playlist that usually helps her when she’s feeling overwhelmed.

 

It helps. Letting herself just soak in the tub and ignore her surroundings for a while. She’s been with the Queens for just shy of a week now and it’s been… a lot. To put it simply. Even before all the weirdness and uncertainty with Oliver, the whole thing was a lot to take. The realization that she had actually grown attached to the other people sharing the house with them hadn’t helped her.

 

The bath doesn’t fix or change any of that, but it lets her forget for a little bit.

 

She stays in the tub for bordering on too long. The water goes tepid and her fingers become pruny, but her muscles have stopped feeling squished together and her chest doesn’t feel so heavy. She climbs out, letting the water silently drain from the tub as she wraps a fluffy gray towel around her. The music continues in her ears and she grabs her phone to check her work emails as she heads back into the bedroom.

 

She comes out of the door, one hand on her towel and the other clutching her phone, and walks smack into something solid. Or rather, someone, she realizes with a jolt as her ankle wraps around Oliver’s, knocking them both off balance and sending them both onto the floor. Her phone skitters across the hardwood, one of her earbuds falls out and, yeah, her towel is definitely laying in a bundle next to her on the floor.

 

Which means that… Wow, there really, truly is no god.

 

“Why are you naked?” She squeaks as she tugs the other earbud out, trying not to think about Oliver’s hard body underneath her. Except, yeah, that’s pretty much all she’s thinking about. She squeezes her eyes shut.

 

“Why are you wet?” Oliver responds obtusely, voice tight. Felicity opens one eye, peeking down at his face carefully. He’s tilting his chin up, clearly trying very hard to hold his gaze on the ceiling above them rather than her.

 

“I was taking a bath,” she explains, opening both eyes and pushing on his chest to try to leverage herself up off of him. Her legs fall to either side of his hips and his hands fly suddenly to her waist, fingers clenching against her skin as he squeezes his own eyes shut.

 

“Don’t do that,” he nearly growls and her chest goes warm with a sudden flush of realization. She lets out a quiet apology and Oliver finally looks at her, his eyes traveling down her chest for just a moment before focusing in on her face again.

 

Emboldened by the dark color of his eyes, Felicity rolls her hips experimentally. His fingers tighten almost painfully at the tops of her hip bones, flexing and releasing as he sucks in a breath. His brow creases even as she leans back down towards him.

 

“Felicity,” he says quietly, once she’s close enough that she can feel the heat coming off of him, see the sweat drying on his skin. “What are you doing?”

 

“Escalating the situation,” she answers easily before slanting her mouth over his.

 

He responds with enthusiasm, his hands gliding across her hips to the bare skin of her ass, kneading the soft flesh there. Felicity drags her fingers through his beard, down his neck, over his chest. Desperate to explore all the new skin available to her.

 

Oliver encourages her upwards suddenly and she remembers she’s still laying on top of him on the hard floor. His hands move further down her body, wordlessly telling her to wrap her legs around his waist as he leverages them off the floor. She feels the stretch of muscles beneath her as he does so and is suddenly so very, very grateful for his morning run routine.

 

He lifts her with shocking ease, her legs wrapped tight around his hips as his arm beneath her butt holds her up and the hand at her back keeps her flush against him. The change in angle and altitude has her just above him and his mouth moves over her jaw, down her throat, the coarse hairs of his beard dragging against her sensitive skin.

 

His lips graze the tops of her breasts, his tongue darting out suddenly to taste the skin between them. The softness of him coupled with the water drying on her skin has caused goosebumps to break out over her body. Oliver is warm where he’s pressed against her, his body temperature raised from his run, and she wants to have him wrapped around her, the heat of him encompassing her.

 

“Bed,” she pants, tugging at the hair at the back of his head and forcing him to meet her eyes. 

 

He freezes for a moment, his hooded gaze matching her own, before taking the necessary steps to reach the large bed. He turns as her mouth covers his again, her finger searching for purchase in his hair, and eases them down onto the mattress. Once they’re on a steady surface once more, Felicity rocks her hips against his again and swallows the groan it elicits from him.

 

Without the separation of layers of clothing between them, Felicity can feel every way he’s reacting to her. When she pulls her mouth from his and nips at the underside of his jaw, his stomach muscles tighten and his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass. He flips them suddenly, pinning her beneath him on the bed and settling himself between her thighs.

 

When he pulls away from her, her body reacts in an attempt to follow him. A hand, flat against her stomach, holds her in place as he leaves open mouthed kisses down her chest, her stomach. He hooks one of her legs over his shoulder and she pushes herself up onto her elbows to watch him as he trails kisses up the inside of her thigh.

 

“Relax,” he says in a low, teasing tone as the hand that had been holding her down moves dangerously towards the apex of her thighs. She huffs, shooting him a dirty look because she doesn’t think relaxing is possible in their current position.

 

“Asshole,” she bites, the word ending in a quiet gasp as he drags his fingers, feather-light over her clit. He shoots her a wink before pressing an open mouthed kiss to the same spot he’d just been teasing. Felicity falls back onto the bed, reaching down to bury her fingers in his hair as he slides two fingers inside of her.

 

He’s relentless and startlingly good at making her come. He watches her, eyes dark, beautifully backlit by the sunlight coming in the windows behind him, as the tremors roll through her, his fingers still working her slowly through it as he presses a kiss to the inside of her knee.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he says, almost too quietly for her to hear over the blood pounding in her ears. 

 

She reaches for him, encouraging to rejoin her on the bed. Even this he does painfully slowly, following the same path he’d taken to reach the floor, he kisses his way back up her body until reaching her mouth. She cups his jaw and kisses him with languid movements, aware of every place where his skin touches her own.

 

Once the sluggish feeling resulting from her orgasm has passed and Oliver’s own arousal is still pressing into her stomach, Felicity hooks her leg around his waist and uses the leverage to flip them on the bed. Oliver seems surprised by the movement, staring up at her as she straddles his waist.

 

“Tell me you have condoms stashed somewhere in this room,” she says, shifting her hips against his in a teasing motion. Oliver doesn’t respond right away, his eyes squeezing shut as he takes a deep breath in reaction to her movements. She smirks, feeling gratified at the response he has to her.

 

“No,” he huffs finally and Felicity feels herself deflate. She’d stopped taking her birth control a few months ago when it began messing with her period and hasn’t had time to get an appointment for a new prescription. His eyes are still shut as he continues, “I don’t usually come to my mom’s house expecting to get laid.”

 

She sighs, leaning forward in defeat with her hands pressed against his chest. Her hips move against his on instinct at this point and, if they aren’t going to be able to do this, she really needs to remove herself from the situation. Oliver licks his lips, finally opening his eyes back up to her and noticing her disappointment.

 

“But, uh, I usually keep some in my duffle bag,” he goes on and Felicity glares at him as she slides off of him and he moves to retrieve the bag from where he’d stashed it after unpacking his clothes.

 

“Next time, lead with that,” Felicity huffs, watching him as he moves around the room in all his glory. 

 

Any anger she might actually have at him is completely tempered by how much she just wants him pressed against her, pushing her over the edge again. She presses her thighs together, arousal building again as Oliver locates the emergency supply of condoms and rolls one on. Ah, yeah, there’s that attraction to him she’d spent years trying to build up a tolerance to.

 

And here she’d thought she’d been doing a pretty good job of it.

 

Oliver makes his way back over to her, bending over her on the bed to kiss her again. Felicity pulls at his arms, hurrying the kiss and encouraging him towards her. He laughs against her mouth at her eagerness but doesn’t resist her pull, hovering over her and urging her further back onto the bed. She scoots backwards letting him hover over her until they’re situated before flipping them again.

 

“I like to be on top,” she explains simply as she settles her hips against his. 

 

Oliver doesn’t respond, watching her as she reaches back and strokes him a few times. His head falls back against the mattress when she shifts and he finally slides slowly inside of her. They both freeze with the change, taking a moment to adjust. Felicity bites down on her lip, her breath becoming tight as she adjusts to him inside her.

 

“Good?” Oliver breathes, voice low and rough, and Felicity hums in response.

 

“So, so good,” she moans quietly and his hips buck upwards just a touch in response. 

 

She gasps, her hands falling to his chest, nails pressing into his skin. She takes his cue, though, moving her hips against his as they lift to meet her own. She lowers herself towards him and Oliver presses upwards in response, meeting her mouth in a sloppy kiss. He sits up entirely, his arms coming around her. One hand at the base of her spine guides the movement of her hips as she bites at his shoulder and, together, they create a rhythm.

 

Oliver must feel himself reaching the edge, because he creates space between them and slides his hand down her stomach to reach her clit once more. His movements become sloppy, the rhythm they’ve built breaking as he nears his release and his fingers move in circles, urging her to join him.

 

He kisses the space just beneath her jaw, his teeth moving over her skin before he sucks hard at the spot and couples the move with the press of his fingers against her and she falls apart against him again. This time she buries her face in his shoulder, her fingers tight in his hair as the tremors roll through her. Oliver kisses the shell of her ear before flipping them over, pressing her into the mattress with his weight as he follows her over the edge a few moments later.

 

Once they’re both breathing heavy and trying to come down from their respective highs, Oliver lifts his weight off of her just enough to keep from crushing her beneath him. He trails soft, slow kisses down her neck before resting his head against her chest. Felicity strokes her fingers through his hair, heavy with exhaustion from the exercise.

 

“So, that happened,” she breathes and Oliver chuckles, pressing one more kiss into her skin.

 

\---

 

Felicity wakes up draped over Oliver with the emerald comforter wrapped around them. She must have dozed off and he’d adjusted them up onto the pillows because they’re no longer in the middle of the mattress. His fingers press gently against her spine and she can tell he’s still sleeping off the exhaustion of their morning. Between his run and their fun, he’s probably well over his limit for daily exercise.

 

It had certainly had a more relaxing affect on her than the bath had.

 

She tilts her head up, watching him doze comfortably. She strokes her fingers over his jaw, reveling in the way he moves instinctually towards the touch even in his sleep. Big, bad Oliver Queen, womanizer in his youth, Starling City’s most eligible bachelor; A cuddler. Who’da thunk?

 

He shifts, tugging her tighter against him and humming contentedly. Felicity gives it a moment, wondering if he’s waking up, but when he doesn’t she lets herself relax further against him. She closes her eyes, letting the rise and fall of his chest lull her back into slumber, knowing full well it’s the middle of the day. But he’s warm and comfortable and the thought of pulling away from him seems impossible. She thinks she kind of…

 

“Oh, no,” she whispers.

 

Her whole body tenses with the realization of where her sleepy thoughts had been headed and she sits up carefully, pulling away from him slowly and trying not to wake him. Her chest has gone tight and she can’t breathe in anything more than quick gasps. Fuck, she knows what this is.

 

Fumbling around the room in an attempt to be quiet, she pulls on a pair of jeans without bothering to locate a clean pair of underwear and tugs on a sweatshirt from her suitcase. She grabs her purse, clumsily digging through it as she leaves the room, pulling the door silently shut behind her. Her shaking hands can’t find the pill bottle she’d hidden within the bag and she gives up, settling back against the wall and trying to force her lungs to function normally.

 

_ Mom _ , she realizes suddenly. She needs to talk to her mom.

 

She moves quietly down the hall, forcing a calm to her steps that she doesn’t feel as she approaches the door to her mother’s room for the week. She knocks three times and waits, hoping her mom is still hanging out in the room rather than downstairs spending time with the rest of the guests. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she is. She’s not about to walk down there in her current state and pull her mother away.

 

She nearly sags with relief when her mom pulls the door open and frowns at her.

 

“You’ve got square bear face,” her mom says and Felicity’s brow furrows in confusion. “Never mind, just tell me what’s going on.”

 

She lets Donna guide her into the bedroom and settle her on the bed. Felicity only manages to sit still for a moment before she feels compelled to be in movement, pacing across the floor in front of where her mom is seated on the bed instead.

 

“What happened?” Donna asks when Felicity doesn’t immediately offer up an explanation. “Did you and Oliver have a fight?”

 

“Worse,” she cries, the words bubbling to the surface with no way to control them or slow them. “We slept together and he called me beautiful and I really thought we could just leave it but I woke up next to him and I just freaked out because he’s so good and sweet and I know this week has been him pretending to be in love with me but, God, mom, I don’t know. I could really-”

 

“Felicity, stop,” her mom says suddenly, cutting off her tangent with wide eyes. Felicity blinks at her, realizing that tears have begun to build in her eyes. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. “You’re going too fast, okay? I need you to take a deep breath, count to ten, and tell me what’s happening slowly.”

 

She does as instructed, sucking in a heavy breath and squeezing her eyes shut as she counts in her head before releasing it. It’s not a new technique, something she’d grown accustomed to doing when she would get in this kind of state before she’d left for college.

 

It might be a good thing her mom couldn’t really understand her, since she’d given the entire lie away. But, at this point, does it even matter? She wants to tell someone, she wants her mother to figure out some way to make it better.

 

“Good,” her mom says. “Now, what on earth are you talking about?”

 

“Oliver and I slept together,” she spits out, still probably a little too fast but at least it’s an understandable pace now. Donna blinks.

 

“Okay, people in relationships tend to do that,” she says slowly.

 

“No,” Felicity says, shaking her head and returning to her pacing. She twists the sleeves of her sweater together nervously. “No, Oliver and I, we aren’t- we aren’t actually engaged. It’s all just some stupid ruse to keep our companies afloat until we can rush a merger through the system.”

 

“What?” Her mom asks, sounding even more confused.

 

“It’s a long, complicated story but the gist is that Oliver and I aren’t together,” she explains. “Before all of this, we weren’t even really friends. And I thought I could get through a week of pretending to be his fiancée, but then we kissed yesterday and… I don’t know. Something changed.”

 

“You have feelings for him, you mean,” Donna puts it succinctly and Felicity bunches her shoulder up, turning back to her mom.

 

“I could really see myself liking him,” she admits, feeling miserable with the realization. “He spent this week pretending to be in love with me and I guess I got swept up in it. I let myself forget it wasn’t real.”

 

Her mom pats the bed next to her and Felicity gives in, dropping down on the mattress. The comforter on the bed in this room is a deep burgundy and she runs her hand over it.

 

“I’ve seen you two this week and, honey,” her mom pauses to reach over and brush Felicity’s hair behind her ear, using her knuckles to gently wipe away the tear track running down her cheek. She continues with a conviction that makes Felicity’s stomach turn, “The way he looks at you - no one can fake that.”

 

The words don’t make her feel better. Instead she feels miserable, she feels pathetic. She was the closest option for Oliver and, after a week of touches and kisses, it was natural for them to end up where they had. So, why was she the one who was letting her emotions run away with it?

 

Her and Oliver? That’s just… unthinkable.

 

“Mom, please, can we just go?” She asks, turning her head away from where her mother’s hand still rests on her cheek.

 

“Go?” She can hear the frown in Donna’s voice, but she keeps her gaze on the floor beneath her feet.

 

“I’ll call it a work emergency,” she shrugs. “We’ll call a car and take the train back to Starling. It’s not like I don’t have room for you if you want to stay until after the new year.”

 

“Felicity, since when do you handle situations by running away?” Her mom asks, the disappointment in her voice unmissable. She groans, tugging her sleeves over her hands and pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.

 

“I can’t be here anymore,” she sobs, willing the tears away. “Please, please be on my side on this, okay?”

 

“Hey,” Donna says, tugging her hands away from her face and squeezing her wrists gently. “I am your mother. I am always on your side.”

 

“Okay,” Felicity nods. “So, then, let’s leave.”

 

\---

 

It doesn’t take her long to pack her things back up considering she hadn’t really bothered to unpack. Oliver had been confused by her sudden insistence that she needed to leave to go deal with a Helix issue.

 

“Are you gonna come back for the party on New Year’s Eve?” He’d asked, frowning as she zipped up her bag. She’d hidden out in her mother’s room until she felt calm enough to go back to the one she was sharing with Oliver. He must have awoken while she was gone and finally decided to take the shower she’d deprived him of.

 

“Uh, no,” she’d told him, frowning down at her suitcase and avoiding his gaze. “No, I mean, I don’t know how long it’ll take to deal with the problem. Besides, it’s good that I leave early, right? You can complain about how I’m a workaholic and sow some reasons for our future breakup.”

 

“Right,” he’d said quietly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

 

She’d said goodbye to everyone well enough, laughing about the work emergency and how “if you want something done well, right?” Thea had hugged her tight and Moira had squeezed her hands as they said goodbye. Walter had held her shoulders and made her promise not to be a stranger and she’d nearly broken down.

 

Oliver followed them outside when the car pulled up and kissed her goodbye knowing his family was standing on the porch. She wanted him to mean it. She wanted to not want him. She wanted to throw up. 

 

Her bare finger is hidden beneath the gloves Moira had given her. She’d taken off the ring on her finger and left it on the nightstand before thinking better of it and tucking it into the pocket of his duffle bag in case one of the other guests came into the room for any reason. On the way to the train station, she sends him a text so he knows where it is.

 

“Did you two talk about it at all?” Her mom asks as Felicity leans her head against the window, letting the vibration of the train rattle her skull and clear her fuzzy thoughts.

 

“What’s there to talk about?” She asks, closing her eyes and willing her mom to leave it alone.

 

She pretends not to hear the way Donna sighs in response.

 

Felicity returns to work almost as soon as they get back to Starling. She texts Curtis and Alena to let them know her holiday has been cut short and she’ll be coming in to look over the version of the contract the legal team has drafted. She answers no questions about why her plans have changed.

 

She knows she’s surly and channeling too much of her sadness and anxiety into work. It’s making her a bad host, she’s sure, because her mom books herself a flight home for the morning of the 31st, two days after they get back from the mountains.

 

“I’m not rushing you out, you know,” Felicity sighs as they sit on the couch in her loft. Some terrible romantic comedy plays quietly on the TV at her mother’s behest, but Felicity is more interested in the minty ice cream in her bowl.

 

“I know you’re not, honey,” her mom assures her, scraping at the strawberry ice cream in her own bowl. “But I also know you don’t want me around right now and that’s okay. Whatever you need to do to feel better, just do that, and call me to let me know you’re okay.”

 

Felicity drives her to the airport the next morning, letting Donna squeeze her almost too tightly in goodbye and allowing herself to feel calmed by her mother’s embrace. Distance from Oliver has helped, a return to her normal routine has kept her busy and her mind full. There’s still a sadness that lingers deep in her chest, heavy with a weight she doesn’t wish to carry.

 

It’s silly of her to think Donna Smoak of all people could leave it at that. When she gets to work after dropping her off, Felicity finds an email from her mom waiting for her. She frowns, unaware her mother even knew how to use the email address she’d set up for her, and clicks on it. There’s a small paperclip next to the title, informing her the email comes with some sort of attachment.

 

_ Moved some things from my phone to my computer and I thought you might want this _ , her mother writes.

 

Hesitantly, Felicity clicks on the attachment at the bottom of the email and the viewer on her computer loads it. She sucks in a breath at the photo coloring her computer screen. It must be from Christmas Eve, when Thea had tricked Oliver and Felicity into stopping beneath the mistletoe. They’re pulling out of the kiss, Oliver’s eyes on her as she stares up at him bewildered by the soft kiss he’d given her, the way she’d wanted to press up on her toes and deepen it. 

 

She remembers the flash of her mom’s camera. She remembers thinking it was sparks.

 

_ No one’s ever looked at me like this _ , Donna’s email concludes and Felicity closes the whole browser just to make it go away.

 

“Why do you look like you just got suckerpunched by a ghost?” Alena asks as she comes into the office, startling Felicity with her appearance. She scoots her chair backwards a smidge, away from the computer, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

 

Thinking about Oliver. So maybe it was something she shouldn’t be doing.

 

“Just my mom being,” she stops huffing and rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “Well, my mom.”

 

“Right,” Alena says, drawing the word out. “And it has nothing to do with your mysterious week in the mountains you refuse to talk about?”

 

“Alena,” Felicity sighs, shooting the other woman a dark look. She holds her hands up in defense, crossing the room to drop the file held in one of them on Felicity’s desk.

 

“Just came up to drop off the final programming reports before the new year,” she explains. Felicity leans across the desk, grabbing the folder and flipping it open. There has to be an irony behind her programming division still insisting on hard copies of all their reports. “And, to invite you out tonight to ring in the New Year right. I mean, I’m assuming you don’t have any plans since you were supposed to be spending the holiday with the Queens.”

 

“I’m not really in the party mood,” Felicity admits, scanning the reports in her hands. Alena reaches over, taking the folder back and slapping it closed. Felicity frowns up at her.

 

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you up in those mountains,” she says, almost teasingly and Felicity tries to smile along, but the photo from her mother is burned into her brain. “But you deserve a night out and multiple drinks for surviving it.”

 

Felicity sighs, willing to concede the point, “You have no idea.”

 

At least that dress she’d bought won’t totally go to waste.

 

\---

 

Apparently, ringing in the new year “right” means going out with Alena, Curtis, Curtis’ husband, and a handful of high level team members from programming whose names and faces all start to blend together after the second shot.

 

“Hey, wait,” one of them shouts at one point, beating her in the amount of alcohol consumption already. “Aren’t you engaged to Oliver Queen?”

 

Felicity orders another shot and pretends not to hear him.

 

This will be good too, right? Let the gossip rags get wind of her out with a rowdy group of late twenty-somethings without her gorgeous fiancé. That’s good for sowing discontent, too. She orders a martini and tugs her leather jacket off, the alcohol finally making her feel warm in this ridiculous dress she’d let herself be talked into buying. It doesn’t feel as fun to wear without the possibility of watching Oliver’s jaw do that thing where he grinds it a little before forcing himself to offer some sort of compliment that doesn’t sound like he wants to fuck her.

 

“Girl,” Alena pants, pulling herself from a group of sweaty, dancing bodies to join Felicity where she’s isolated herself at a bar table. “You look so hot tonight, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, but I have learned there are few things that making out with a stranger can’t fix.”

 

Felicity raises an uninterested eyebrow at her friend who lets out a dramatic, and clearly inebriated, sigh and spins away from her to rejoin the party. Eventually, after she’s finished her drink and started in on her second, a random guy sidles up next to her and she decides to let his unsubtle flirting fly.

 

She tries to be open to it, she really does. He’s not even unattractive - dark hair, blue eyes, boyish smile and definitely her type. But, ultimately, she must not be giving him the responses he wants because he gives up and leaves her to her third drink of the night.

 

At one point, Alena drags into the group of dancers and Felicity forces herself to relax as she moves to the deafening beat coming from the speakers. She even manages to forget for a while about all of her own inner turmoil. She moves back towards the table where she’d left her empty glass as it nears midnight. 

 

Workers in the bar begin roving, handing patrons glasses of champagne as the TVs around them count down towards the new year. Felicity takes a deep breath, watching the seconds tick away as she holds the bubbly drink out in front of her. This year has been… stressful with Helix and Slade Wilson, but otherwise uneventful.

 

Until Oliver Queen had come waltzing into her office with the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard. And she’d signed on, knowing full well it wouldn’t end well.

 

The bar around her erupts with sound as the crowd within begins to loudly count the last ten seconds before the calendar year ends and they all symbolically decide it means a change. Felicity frowns, mouthing the seconds along with everyone else and wondering what she hopes to change. She hadn’t thought about it beyond the basics - visit her mom more, make time for cardio again, keep her company.

 

Even now, miles away and halfway drunk with her only friends in Starling, she can’t help thinking about Oliver and what she’d like to change there.

 

The cheers around her startle her and Felicity realizes suddenly that she’s missed the turn. She glances around her as she sips her champagne. Curtis and Paul are swaying on the dance floor, sharing soft kisses to the soft sounds of Auld Lang Syne playing through the speakers. A few feet from her, Alena has found a pretty redhead in a short emerald dress to make out with.

 

Felicity smiles softly at the happiness of her friends before finishing her glass of champagne and snagging her clutch off of the table. She leaves the bar, pulling her pink leather jacket back on and trying not to bump into anyone drunker than herself as she teeters in her heels.

 

She knows there’s no chance of finding a cab right now in this busy part of town. Instead, she pulls out her phone and texts both Curtis and Alena to let them know that she’s headed home and thank them for convincing her to come out. Despite her current feelings, she had managed to have a good time.

 

Felicity makes it two blocks away from the busy strip of high end bars and nightclubs before she’s able to wave down a cab. It’s well after midnight, well into the new year, by the time she makes it to her apartment building. Her nice drunken state has calmed to a manageable buzz as she enters the elevator, repeatedly pressing the ‘close door’ button in quick succession until the doors close and the elevator begins to crawl towards her loft on the top floor.

 

She unzips her jacket, pulling it off of her shoulders and yawning. The fuzzy reflection in the elevator doors tell her that her dark red lipstick is still hanging on but her curls have turned a little frizzy. She pats them down with one hand, her coat draped over her other arm, and the elevator dings at her floor. Her feet hurt - Louboutins; great for that ass-perking lift, not great for looking for a cab at 12 a.m. - and she’s dreaming about getting to enjoy her empty loft before the sinking loneliness sets in alongside tomorrow’s hangover.

 

She steps off the elevator and into the familiar brick hallway outside of her door, clicking her box clutch open to dig for her keys in the small thing. They catch on the chain of the arrow necklace she’d planned to wear out tonight and taken off halfway to the bar when it had begun to feel too heavy around her neck, too much like an albatross. She huffs, shaking the keys until the chain falls loose back inside the clutch.

 

“Having trouble?” Someone asks and Felicity nearly topples over on her heels. Oliver is watching her from his seat on the floor of the hallway. His legs are spread out in front of him, his back pressed to the exposed brick behind him, and Felicity doubts that his expensive tailored suit is meant to be worn in such a position.

 

“What are you doing here?” She breathes, her keys dropping back into the clutch as her fingers go slack. Oliver pulls his legs towards himself, pushing himself up off the floor. Felicity watches him warily, not missing the way his eyes travel over her and she suddenly remembers this stupid, stupid dress she’d bought to impress him.

 

“You look…,” he starts, searching for a word she isn’t sure how to give him. When it becomes too long, she shrugs, smoothing her free hand over the geometric skirt self consciously.

 

“My mom thought I should wow you,” she explains lamely, feeling ridiculous for the admission but what else should she say? Is she supposed to tell him that she ran away, broke their deal, just because she can’t keep herself from letting her schoolgirl crush flourish under his attentions?

 

“Consider me wowed,” he says, taking a cautious step towards her.

 

“Oliver, what are you doing here?” She repeats, refusing to let herself warm with the words. Too afraid to risk letting herself hope.

 

“I know it’s not midnight anymore,” he says, inching closer until he’s standing in front of her, staring down at her. She feels tense and unbalanced. She wishes she had taken her heels off in the elevator on the way up. “But I kind of wanted you to be the first person I kissed this year.”   
  
“Oliver,” she breathes, unsure what to make of it, of him. Standing here in front of her. Asking to kiss her. It should be straightforward, uncomplicated, but she doesn’t know if it is. She tries again, “I don’t-”   
  
“Felicity, I’m crazy about you,” he says, cutting her off. The admission surprises her and she lets out a quiet sound, biting down on her lower lip. “I didn’t realize how much until this week forced me to confront those feelings and now that I have… I just don’t want to keep that in the dark anymore.”   
  
She can’t breathe, can’t say anything. For all those words she’s so good at spewing, none of them seem to want to come now. She can tell her silence is making him nervous and he shifts his weight.   
  
“I don’t know if you left because you don’t feel the same way,” he continues when it’s clear that she isn’t going to respond yet, “Or because you do.”

 

She decides not to bother with words, closing the distance between them instead. She wraps her fingers in the lapels of his suit jacket and tugs him down towards her, his mouth covering her own as his hands find her hips and tug her against him. She hums against his mouth and his hands rove upwards slightly, enough that he can drag the pads of his thumbs over the cutouts in her dress just beneath her ribs.

 

“My keys,” she says, pulling away from him enough to reopen the clutch and pull her keychain from within. Oliver loosens his hold on her, following her as she reaches the door to her apartment. He wraps his arm around her stomach from behind, leaning over her to kiss the spot just below her ear. Her hand shakes as she tries to get her key into the lock.

 

When she moves to cross the threshold, she pulls from Oliver’s hold and turns back to face him with a frown. He hesitates just outside of her apartment.

 

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly, gesturing to the apartment, but Felicity gets the feeling that’s not really what he’s asking. She takes a step towards him, reaching up to stroke her fingers over his cheek. Just like in his sleep, he leans into the touch.

 

“I left because I got scared,” she admits now that he’s standing here in front of her, looking at her like- like… well, he’d said it, hadn’t he? Like he’s crazy about her. “Because I’m crazy about you, too.”

 

“Yeah?” He asks, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper. The hope in his eyes turns them shockingly blue and she wants to foster that, doesn’t want to ever let it leave him again.

 

“Yeah,” she responds in kind before guiding his mouth down towards hers again. 

 

He kisses her soft and slow as she leads him backwards into the apartment. He has the good sense to push the door closed behind him. Her back hits one of the wooden posts in the middle of the loft and Oliver crowds her against it, his kisses turning more heated as she wraps her fingers around his neck.

 

“Is your mom staying with you?” He asks, putting enough space between them for the question before diving in for another kiss. It’s a moment before Felicity can pull herself far enough away to answer.

 

“She went back to Nevada this morning,” she tells him as he shifts his attentions to leaving kisses across her jaw, down her neck. His hands move down her body, stopping once more at the cut outs to skirt his thumbs up under the fabric and move along the undersides of her breasts. Felicity lets out a sigh at the feeling and encourages his mouth back up to hers.

 

Oliver sucks her lower lip into his mouth, nipping at the sensitive flesh and Felicity presses her body flush against his, pushing at his suit jacket until he takes the hint, tugging it over his shoulders and dropping it to the floor behind him.

 

“Where’s the bed?” He asks as she tugs at his tie, loosening the knot until she can lift it over his head.

 

“Couch is closer,” she offers instead and he huffs a laugh, smirking at her before she covers his mouth with hers again. 

 

His arm comes around her, encouraging her to leap a bit so that he can lift her and she wraps her legs around his waist. Her skirt rucks up a bit on her thighs and Oliver’s hand splays over the underneath of her ass, fingers reaching the bare skin of her thigh. He moves, directing them towards the black couch in the center of the open space and Felicity focuses on trying to get the buttons of his shirt undone.

 

She expects him to settle her onto the couch, his body hovering over hers, but he stops suddenly and spins them before easing himself down onto the couch. Felicity frowns at him, raising an eyebrow as his fingers move up her back to the skin left uncovered by her dress.

 

“I like you on top, too,” he says simply and Felicity stops working on his shirt to kiss him breathless.

 

\---

 

“So, how is this gonna work?” She asks, because there’s clearly an elephant in the room and her loft is only big enough to contain it for so long. Oliver stretches beneath her, muscles pulling where she’s pressed flush and naked against him on the small couch.

 

“Well, everyone still thinks we’re engaged,” he says.

 

“Mostly,” she corrects and he raises an eyebrow at her. “I told my mom during my mini… gargantuan freakout. And I’m pretty sure Sara never really believed us.”

 

“Thea knows, too,” he admits and Felicity pouts. You know, she really thought they had been doing well during their time in the mountains. Had they only been fooling themselves?

 

“Okay, file that under ‘to be dealt with at a later date,’” she says, pulling away from Oliver enough that she can sit up and look at him. He follows the movement, lifting himself up onto his elbows. She frowns, pressing on, “But, seriously, how would this work?”

 

“Well, plenty of people have long engagements,” he shrugs. “The merger will go through as planned, but you and I can take it slow. Figure things out for ourselves before we worry about everyone else.”

 

“Are you really suggesting we stay engaged just so that we can date?” She asks, trying not to let the thought of dating him overwhelm the ridiculousness of that idea. 

 

Oliver moves suddenly, sliding out from underneath her carefully. Felicity frowns, pulling the light green throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around herself. Oliver pulls his discarded boxers on first before hunting for his suit jacket by the pillar. He snags it, digging in the pockets before dropping it back to the floor and returning to her.

 

“What are you doing?” She laughs as kneels on one knee in front of her, the familiar ring held out between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“Felicity Smoak,” he starts and she resists the urge to cover her face at the gesture he’s offering. “Will you stay engaged to me, so that I can take you out on a proper date? One that does not involve either of our families, a holiday you don’t celebrate, or - this might be the most important part - any lies and pretending?”

 

She nearly knocks him over with the force of her embrace, slanting her mouth over his for a deep kiss as he presses the cold band of the ring against her back.

 

“Sure,” she says finally as she pulls away from him. Oliver takes her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger this time and she can’t help but think of the last time he’d offered it to her. It doesn’t mean anything literally, other than the continuation of their ruse, but it feels different. Her stomach turns excitedly now as he smiles at her and she can’t resist teasing him, shrugging and adding, “I mean, why not?”

 

He pulls her towards him again, hands gentle on either side of her face as he kisses her, and Felicity holds onto him tightly, but not desperately. When he pulls away again, she doesn’t fear it might be for the last time.

 

\---

 

They fly to Nevada the next year mostly to celebrate Hanukkah with her mother. But, Felicity knows her mother would want to be the first - second, really, after John Diggle - to know that this time, when she calls Oliver Queen her fiancé, she means it.


	5. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver copes with Felicity's abrupt departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Look, I know what I said, I know! But I also said all those things knowing I had already written this addition so -- basically I'm a lying ho. But I couldn't really leave this universe without giving both myself and you guys a glimpse into Oliver's mind.
> 
> I also just wanted to do something as a surprise to be dropped on Christmas Day (or just.... Monday. If you don't celebrate it.) and it's not terribly long, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Oliver feels quite suddenly like the world has been pulled out from under him and turned upside down. And that he’s the only one who seems to have noticed anything has changed.

 

Maybe it hasn’t changed. He knew the risks of what he was doing when he’d asked Felicity to join him in this slow descent into insanity. He’d known that he had some sort of attraction to her, whether physical or emotional, and thought he could compartmentalize it for a week.

 

But then he’d woken up wrapped around her and when he kissed her it was like… Like never wanting to kiss anyone else. Which is easily the sappiest thing he’s ever thought, but there it is. It had been the sweetest kind of torture when she’d fallen on top of him, wet and naked and so fucking beautiful, but he’d thought that’d be the end of it.

 

He should have known better than to underestimate Felicity Smoak.

 

She’d fallen asleep on top of him, pressing lazy, half-awake kisses into his chest, and he’d thought that maybe he’d been wrong all these years. Maybe under that layer of less-than-subtle annoyance at his presence, she’d felt something for him, too. He doesn’t know her well enough to fully understand the reasons for her walls - and, damn if he doesn’t want to remedy that - but he’d felt optimistic about the possibility of circumventing them.

 

And then he’d woken up alone and she didn’t come back to the room until he’d already given up waiting and was taking his shower. Now she’s gone, repacked her barely unpacked suitcase and taken her mom and his heart and just… left.

 

He’d found the ring in his bag not long after she’d texted him and hadn’t known what to do with it, so he’s just been carrying it around, moving it from pocket to pocket as he changes clothes. It’s been normal, probably. Just like any other time he’s joined his parents for the holidays. With Tommy, Thea, and Sara there, he’s always felt like nothing’s really changed.

 

But, now, Felicity still hangs over them like a spectre. Thea talks about coming to Starling to stay with the two of them for a while, getting to see the city again once she’s done with school. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but can’t bring himself to say anything negative about Felicity. She’d told him he should give some reasons for their future breakup, make people expect it.

 

The problem is, despite her hasty departure, Felicity had come into his life and swept everyone in it off their feet. He doesn’t think she knows the effect she has on people. The way her natural warmth and light draws them to her. The way it had drawn him in after they’d met two years ago.

 

He’d always kind of thought, if he ever got the opportunity, one good romp and he could fuck Felicity Smoak right out of his system. No such luck.

 

“If you keep pouting like you’re never gonna see her again, your family is gonna know something is up,” Dig says, coming to join him where he’s sequestered himself in the corner of the room. So maybe he’s not being the most social of guests tonight, but he’s hardly the social butterfly he used to be anyway. Besides…

 

“I don’t pout,” he says, forcing his voice to come out even and keep himself from sounding any more petulant than he already may seem.

 

Everyone is mingling as they wait for dinner to be prepared and placed, glasses of wine and bubbling champagne in their hands. It’s hours yet until they’ll be ringing in the new year and Oliver is sure he can force some sort of fake cheer into his demeanour by then. Maybe they’ll chalk his quiet surliness up to hunger.

 

“What happened, man?” Dig asks, turning toward Oliver with a frown. He sighs, not sure how to even answer that question. “You two seemed to be getting close.”

 

“I thought we were, but,” Oliver huffs, shrugging and annoyed at the way his thoughts aren’t clear. No one has ever left him this foggy and frustrated and heartsick. “I think maybe we started to forget we were just supposed to be fooling everyone and reality caught up with us.”

 

“Kind of seems like the only people you’re still fooling are yourselves,” Dig comments, earning a dark look from Oliver. He refuses to back down, meeting the dark glare with an unaffected look.

 

This is why Oliver likes John, even if at this moment it’s incredibly annoying for him to have hit it so spot on. He’s never let Oliver jerk him around. When he’d gotten back to Starling five years ago, he’d tried to be the person he was before he left, before his dad died. John had seen right through that and, somehow, that had helped him become Oliver’s closest friend.

 

“Johnny,” Lyla calls, joining them in the corner with baby Sara on her hip. Oliver smiles down at the small girl as she tugs at the necklace around her mother’s neck. “Will you please back my play and tell your son that he can stay up until midnight, but has to go to bed right after?”

 

John laughs and nods, following Lyla back to where she’s left their pouting eldest child. Oliver watches them go, shaking his head. John and Lyla had met during one of John’s tours with the army and they still talk like it - taking on their children, their marriage, and their shared lives like plotting out a battle. It’s nice, Oliver thinks. They’re equal partners who tackle everything together.

 

His chest tightens with how heavily he wants that and his thoughts go once more to Felicity.

 

“What are you still doing here?” Thea asks, joining him now that John has left him alone again. He frowns at her.

 

“It’s nice to see you, too, Speedy,” he says and, yeah okay, now he’s pouting. But it’s only because he’d appreciate if people would lay off for the night. Can’t they wait until the new year to beat up on him at least?

 

Thea rolls her eyes at his dramatics.

 

“I  _ mean _ , why are you here,” she repeats, “instead of running after Felicity?”

 

“Felicity and I will see each other when I get home,” he shrugs, trying not to seem too affected by the question. “I wanted to spend the holiday with you and mom. She decided to go back to Starling early, it’s fine.”

 

“Right,” Thea says, disbelief evident in her tone and Oliver raises his eyebrows at her in question. She gives in, “Look, I don’t care what you tell mom or your friends, but you’ve gotta stop lying to me. For one thing; you’re really bad at it.”

 

“And what am I lying about?” Oliver asks, forcing a tiredness into his voice to keep from sounding caught. Thea gives him a slow blink that lets him know she isn’t buying it.

 

“About you and Felicity being together,” she says and when he opens his mouth to protest, she holds a hand up to stop him. “Don’t bother. I know you aren’t.”

 

“How?” He asks, eyeing her warily and lowering his voice.

 

“While she was here, all you two did was stare longingly at each other like two people who want to be together but aren’t,” she explains. “And ever since she left, all you’ve done is pout and flinch anytime someone brings up her name. So, because I am brilliant, this leaves me with two possibilities; either you broke up and for some reason have decided not to tell everyone or, more ridiculously, you were never engaged in the first place.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks.

 

“I only just started to put the pieces together before she left,” Thea shrugs. “Plus, I like Felicity. I was hoping if you two were playing pretend it might end up better than it has.”

 

Oliver sighs, unwilling to admit even to himself that he had been hoping for something similar. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and looks down at his little sister.

 

“The whole thing is kind of a long story,” he admits.

 

“One you will definitely be telling me later,” Thea interjects and he chuckles, nodding in agreement. He appreciates that she hasn’t outed him for his lies to the entire party. It’s not an explanation he wants to get into.

 

“But, yeah, we were never actually together,” he sighs, the words falling heavy with the truth, but heavier with the sadness of them. Oliver knows he has a tendency to pile everyone’s troubles onto his back and carry them around, but he’s never felt quite so downtrodden as he does tonight.

 

“Look, I don’t know why you guys were pretending,” she says, sounding more sympathetic than annoyed at his lies, “But, I do know that I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her. You’ve spent so much time protecting me and trying to prove yourself to mom and Walter. It’s okay to just want what makes you happy.”

 

He opens his mouth to protest, sure the words will make their way out. It’s not like he’s spent the past five years being completely selfless. He avoids his family when he can for fear of disappointing any of them. It’s easier to fall in and out of bed with people than to try to make an actual relationship work.

 

But, Felicity…

 

“Felicity makes you happy,” Thea supplies for him, cutting off any attempt at protest he may have eventually come up with. “And I think you both owe it to yourselves to find out how much of this past week hasn’t been pretend.”

 

“When did you get so wise?” He asks, smiling warmly down at his sister. He’d missed this. The moments of clarity that Thea can bring, the way she can read him that comes only from years of sibling closeness and shared DNA.

 

She shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking at him, “I got mad relationship skills, bro.”

 

“So, what do I do?” He asks, feeling a little ridiculous asking his younger sister for advice on this. It’s not really his strong suit, though. He’d never been good at appropriately expressing emotions. When he was younger, he’d used meaningless sex to keep himself from having to deal with them. Now, he uses the company and his busy schedule as an excuse to lock them away. He’s willing to try things differently for Felicity.

 

“Start by figuring out if she feels the same way,” Thea offers a little obviously, shrugging at him. He frowns, considering her words, and startles when she reaches over and smacks his arm. She continues, emphatically, “Go after her, dummy!”

 

“Right,” he says, nodding to himself before tugging Thea into a tight embrace. “Will you make up an excuse for me?”

 

“I’ll just tell them the truth,” she says, squeezing him back, and Oliver tenses. “That you wanted to be with Felicity.”

 

He pulls out of the hug, holding her gently by the arms and giving her a serious look. “Thank you, Thea.”

 

“If you don’t leave now,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully at his gratitude, “You’ll never make it by midnight.”

 

Oliver leaves a kiss on the side of her head before moving quickly past the other guests and out of the room. He calls for a car on the way up the stairs, offering to pay double if they’re willing to test some traffic laws.

 

Holiday miracles probably don’t exist, but he might just make it to Starling by midnight.

 

\---

 

The car pulls up outside of Felicity’s apartment building five minutes into the new year and Oliver has never been so nervous in his entire life. It shouldn’t be so nerve wracking, should it? They’ve slept together, they’ve dealt with their own awkwardness to an extent. But, this? The honesty and feelings and all that shit he’s spent years avoiding? That’s scary.

 

He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. If he had made it before midnight, maybe it would have been easier to just kiss her and see what happened. But, now? Now it’s 12:07 and the light on the elevator is nearing her floor and all he has are foggy thoughts and the memory of kissing her as she left.

 

She left. Maybe he was making the wrong call here. Sex is easy and maybe that’s all it was for her. The release after days of him touching her like he longed to, pulling her against him and leaving light kisses under some guise of fooling his family. John was right. He’d only ever really been fooling himself, thinking he could have a taste of her and that would be enough.

 

Felicity is a logical person. Ten times smarter than him. If she’d left early, it was probably a logical choice to put distance between them before he became too attached. Too late. 

 

She could turn him down. His stomach turns at the thought that she could be with someone else, could have kissed someone she wouldn’t want to run away from as the clock struck midnight. He doesn’t like the way the thought makes him feel, tense and annoyed at just the prospect. She could return home with someone else’s kiss on her lips, someone else’s hands trailing her body, touching her the way he had gotten to the other day. The way he might never get to again.

 

He could have driven the five hours to get to her apartment, worked himself up like this, and she could tell him no. Then what?

 

Well, it’d be worth it, he thinks, just to know that he took the risk and asked.

 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. The hallway leading to her front door is entirely exposed brick. A small console table sits on one end of it, adorned with a purple orchid. He wonders if it’s her addition or something put in by the building owner. Something tells him it’s the former.

 

He hesitates in front of the frosted glass that makes up her apartment door, hand poised to knock as he allows himself one last moment of doubt. Then he knocks his knuckles against the glass three times and waits.

 

After a long moment with no movement inside the apartment, he begins to feel foolish. He knocks again, a little louder, just for good measure. Just to say that he had really tried. But, it’s New Year’s Eve - New Year’s Day now, he supposes - so of course she wouldn’t just be sitting at home. She’d probably gone out with friends, or maybe a prospective something she had neglected to tell him about.

 

He feels defeated, frustrated. All he wants is to get back to his own apartment and wipe the past week from his mind. It had been stupid of him to come here anyway, to think that she may feel the same as him. Why would she run if she does?

 

He presses the call button for the elevator and hears his sister’s voice in his mind, scolding him for giving up so easily, for allowing his doubt to keep him from the opportunity. Thea had made it all sound as though it weren’t one sided and, he knows his sister can tend to see things through rose colored glasses where he’s concerned, but he wants so desperately to believe her.

 

So, when the elevator doors open to him, he steps away from them. They slide shut again as he moves back down the hall towards Felicity’s door. If this is meant to be his last stand where Felicity is concerned, then he’s going to be able to say he did everything he could. The rest will be up to her.

 

He settles onto the floor, letting his legs stretch out in front of him as he leans back against the cold brick and resigns himself to a long night.

 

He nearly falls asleep, he thinks, or maybe he actually does for a little while, but the ding of the elevator as it announces the car arriving at Felicity’s floor has him immediately on alert. He doesn’t know what time it is or if she’ll even be alone, but he doesn’t think anyone else would stop at this floor.

 

When she steps out of the elevator, everything stops for a moment. Or maybe that’s just him. More accurately, maybe it’s the way Felicity makes him feel. She’s got on a pair of towering heels and it’s strange to be the one looking up at her, due to his seat on the floor, for once. She hasn’t noticed him yet, caught up with digging through the sequined clutch in her hands, and it gives him the chance to just admire her.

 

She lets out an annoyed huff and Oliver snaps to attention, used to the noise being directed at or caused by him, but she’s got her eyes on the keychain she’s located in her purse.

 

“Having trouble?” He asks and he can see the way she startles at finding him, or perhaps anyone, sitting in front of her door at god knows what time. She looks over him, blinking a few times, before her fingers go slack and the keys tumble back into her clutch. Her hand looks wrong without his mother’s ring decorating her finger.

 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, little more than a whisper, pouting at him with those dark red painted lips and wary eyes and-

 

He probably doesn’t love her yet, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to miss out on the chance to find out if he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if AO3 is gonna let me list this as Chapter 5 out of 4 hmm.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, have y'all considered that I'm writing a fake engagement au for a couple that is /literally married/ in canon now? Whew, I need a minute! Leave a comment below, it warms my cold, cold heart!


End file.
